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Kingdom of the Unselfish, 



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Empire of the Wise. 



JOHN LORD PECK. 

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New Yobk: 

EMPIRE BOOK BUREAU, 
28 Lafayette Place. 



GOPTKIGHT, 1889. 



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PREFACE. 



THIS book makes its appearance because the existing 
stage of social evolution demands something not 
yet possessed ; and it is one of the many things evolved 
to supply that demand. But it may not prove well 
suited to the present state of opinion. In that case it 
will be better adapted to a later one, and if not read in 
this century may be in the next. 

That it will meet with hostile criticism from those who 
fail to apprehend its best meaning is quite likely. That 
it can do any serious harm, however, is not probable ; 
not only because its motive is good, and because it is 
better to know the truth than to believe the unreal, but 
also because the human mind seems disposed to appro- 
priate what is adapted to its condition of growth, and to 
refuse all that is beyond. There are other persons who 
will be able to appreciate the most of it ; and these too, 
in all kindness, may find much to criticise adversely. 
The author has been continually conscious of such im- 
perfection, and in excuse must reply that the work under- 
taken needed to be done ; there was no one else to do it ; 
and he has done the best he could. Whatever comments, 
friendly or unfriendly, may point out unseen faults, will 



be accepted, and turned to good account in the future, 
when there shall be opportunity. 

Regarding the various dogmatic statements that will 
be found throughout the following pages, it must be said 
there was no time for proving everything, and these were 
left to prove themselves; while the justification of the 
book as a whole is trusted to justify this mode of pro- 
ceeding. Whatever failure there is to give credit for ideas 
used that are not original has the same reason for a par- 
tial excuse; another part will be found on page 139, and 
in the whole of the succeeding chapter; while it may also 
be said that they are mostly such as are already familiar 
to persons acquainted with the progress and present con- 
dition of Science. For similar reasons, no better claim 
is made for anything else that is here presented. 

Those who possess facts bearing upon any of the pecu- 
liar theories here advanced, or who, after sufficient read- 
ing and thought, shall be animated by a desire to take 
some steps toward the ideal ''Kingdom " described, are 
invited to correspond with the author, addressing com- 
munications in care of the publishing company named on 
title page. J. L. P. 



CONTENTS, 



CHAPTER I. Introductory. The Reliable and The Un- 
reliable IN Thought. 
CHAP. II. The Evolution of Morality. 
CHAP. III. The Evolution of Morality {Continued). 
CHxVP. IV. Independence. 
CHAP. V. Vanity and Pride, t/- 
CHAP. VI. Intellectual Immorality. 
CHAP. VII. Conceit and Self-Righteousness. 
CHAP. VIII. Natural and Social Selection. 
CHAP. IX. Natural and Social Selection (Continued). 
CHAP. X. Natural and Social Selection {Continued). 
CHAP. XI. Natural and Social Selection {Continued). 
CHAP. XII. Natural and Social Selection {Continued). 
CHAR XIII. Love. 
CHAP. XIV. Love {Continued). 
CHAP. XV. Religiosity and Religion. 
CHAP. XVI. Conversion and Salvation. 
CHAP. XVII. Artosity and Art. 
CHAR XVIII. God. 
CHAP. XIX. Immortality. 
CHAP. XX. Human Perfectibility. 



CHAPTER L 



THE RELIABLE AND UNRELIABLE IN THOUGHT, 



INTRODUCTORY. 



IF we take all the different sorts of ideas or conceptions 
that enter the human mind, either as knowledge, 
opinion, doctrine, dogma, philosophy, revelation, myth 
or tradition, and put them into two contrasted classes 
regarding the point of their reliability or certainty, one of 
these classes will naturally be called Science and the other 
Nescience, or one Knowledge and the other Conjecture. 
Under the head of Conjecture or Nescience will be in- 
cluded all tradition, myth, revelation, doctrine, dogma, 
speculation and opinion, as the more uncertain part ; while 
under that of Knowledge or the Reliable will be positive 
science only. Science will stand over against all the rest 
as the only certainty. Indeed, science and certainty are 
almost exchangeable words. All those things classed as 
Nescience contain so miich of that which is doubtful that 
doubt, skepticism or criticism is their great enemy, the 
one thing they all dread, and which is really dangerous 
to them ; whereas, Science has no fear of criticism, and 
boldly challenges it to do its worst. For, whatever can- 
not endure criticism is not science, and until it can will 
not become such. And the point is to be noted that al- 
though what passes for science is not yet all positively 
certain, it is in the process of becoming certain — is having 
its doubtful material constantly reduced in amount, un- 
like the opposite class of conceptions, in which the uncer- 
tain matter increases or become^ more prominent under 
the application of criticism. The authority and influence 



2 THE RELIABLE AND 

of the latter is continually being weakened, while the 
matter composing science is continually going forward to 
a point where it can be received by every one alike as 
beyond question. Thus it was in the old contest over 
Astronomy, in the later one over Geology, and so it is in 
the present disputes concerning Biology and the philoso- 
phy of Evolution. 

At the same time that there is more or less of doubt 
attached to everything outside of positive science, there is 
also more or less of truth mixed with the falsity, both 
together waiting for that final sifting process to be ulti- 
mately applied by the Scientific Method, which shall 
separate one from the other, and leave to us the clear 
grain of knowledge unmixed with any chaff of supersti- 
tion, misrepresentation, or misconception. Moreover, 1 
here willingly venture the opinion, to be supported more 
or less farther on, that little of what passes for truth is 
wholly false, and that Science will yet discover some 
solid rocks of certainty where it now sees only the marsh 
and swamp of superstition and folly. 

In claiming so much for Science, however, it is not for- 
gotten that at the bottom of all Science, as we now com- 
monly understand the word, there remain some questions 
of a philosophical character, such as the ultimate test of 
truth, the nature of the Absolute, the nature of force, of 
intelligence and of cause, with definitions of space, time, 
matter and motion, to be definitively settled before Sci- 
ence can finally conquer its whole domain from its 
opponents. This done we shall then at last be able to 
speak of a scientific Ontology. 

To a mature mind the theory or philosophy of a sub- 
ject seems the first thing that ought to be learned ; and 
the fact that Science has not yet fully reached its philo- 
sophical basis— that these great questions are still un- 
decided — is and will be a hindrance to its progress. But 
though it will hinder, it will not prevent, the acceptance 



THE UNRELIABLE 3 

of any ordinary scientific truth when supported by evi- 
dence in sut^cient amount. Nobody can escape from his 
own instincts, nor always refuse to believe his own 
senses ; and so positive truth makes its way notwith- 
standing all philosophy or lack of philosophy. We may 
trust philosophy to the final outcome, well believing that 
it, like all the subordinate departments of knowledge, will 
at last take on the positive and unquestionable character. 

Neither is it to be understood that what I am about to 
offer in this course of essays is all indubitable scientific 
knowledge. I mean to claim only that positive knowl- 
edge is the foundation of the whole. Though the struc- 
ture may be carried up to a dizzying height, or branched 
out in various unfamiliar directions, yet the underwork is 
in the solid ground. Or, with a different simile, just as in 
springtime the sap absorbed by the roots of a tree must 
be carried into all its highest and widest branches, or else 
they die, so the spirit and method of Science must be 
carried into' all that claims to be developed from it, else 
such outgrowth will die and fall to the ground. The 
radical truths of science are the roots out of which every- 
thing must grow ; and whatever is not properly affiHated 
to them cannot be expected to live. For this reason it is 
intended to put forth nothing but what is believed able to 
hold its place, and live and grow, under these conditions. 

Let us now make a short review of the unreliable spe- 
cies of knowledge, or rather thought, and afterward a 
comparison with it of the more positive or reliable kind, 
in order to understand how they are naturally related to 
each other, what is the present state and tendency of 
thought, and what is likely to be the final outcome from 
the existing conflict of influences between them. All of 
the work that is to follow will then possess something of 
the character of prediction. 

To speak first of Tradition and Revelation, these are so 



4 THE RELIABLE AND 

nearly connected, nearly all the accepted revelations are 
so old, so obscure, and though written are to the masses 
of people so much a tradition, that for my purpose it will 
be sufficiently correct to discuss them both under one 
head. To realize how truly and how much revelation is 
tradition let one but remember that the Christian world 
has for eighteen hundred years been disputing over the 
natural or ordinary meaning of old Hebrew writings, 
absurd though they are when so understood, while only 
in the present century has the idea got abroad that the 
disputed portions are allegories, having a symbolical and 
spiritual sense that is rational, and were probably written 
with no expectation of their ever being taken for anything 
else. 

All over the world, wherever there has been any civili- 
zation, there exist old books or scriptures that are looked 
upon as more or less sacred. In China, India, Central 
and Western Asia, and Northern Africa they are still the 
authorities by which people are taught, and their lives to 
some small extent governed. In ancient Egypt, if not 
Chaldea, similar writings were possessed, and doubtless 
served the same purpose of teaching men how to live. 
Greece and Rome also had their sacred mysteries and 
oracles, and Rome at least some sacred books. Where 
civilization was not sufficiently advanced for records to 
be made there were still oral traditions, similar to those 
in the written volumes or scrolls. These existed in 
Central America, Mexico and Peru, and are found in 
various barbarous or half-civilized tribes, on this con- 
tinent and the other. The Kings, the Vedas, the Avesta, 
the Dhamapada, the Book of the Dead, the Sibylline 
books, the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, and the 
Koran, besides various other works closely related to 
them, and a host of commentaries and expositions, all 
come into this class of documents. Some records previ- 
ously unknown to us have been brought to light by the re- 



THE UNRELIABLE 5 

searches of modern scholars ; while those who profess to 
have penetrated into the mysteries of the ancient secret 
societies tell us there are still other old books hidden away 
in the Buddhist monasteries of Central Asia, of which we 
have never had any account. 

Regarding these I will quote from an author known 
both as a religionist and a scientist,* one who has proved 
his Christianity by his deeds — Mr. Charles L. Brace, the 
founder some thirty years ago of the Five Points mission- 
ary work in New York City. 

"It is a grand and consoling thought," he says, ''har- 
monious with reason and with the utterances of inspired 
men, that there is in human history a continuity of divine 
revelations. That is, that the Spirit of God has not 
merely manifested itself to one race in a remote corner of 
the world during a few years, but that it has been strug- 
gling with human souls during all ages and among all 
races. Certain individuals have especially received these 
inspirations, and have so grasped certain moral and spir- 
itual truths, or have led such pure and unselfish lives, as 
to profoundly affect the humane and moral progress of 
whole races of men. Indeed the continuance and relative 
advance of great nations have often depended on the de- 
gree to which they followed the instructions and truths 
taught by their great reHgious leaders. Under this aspect 
God is an ever-acting force in human history, and men 
and women in the most widely scattered countries, and 
among races given up to superstition and degrading prac- 
tices, have opened their souls to this divine light. The 
light which they in turn have given to the world has not 
indeed been like the pure radiance shining forth from the 
Son of Man in Judea, but it has contained rays of the 
heavenly light, and though obscured by the mists of super- 
stition and the clouds of human ignorance, it has yet 
guided manv a weary soul in the dark ways of the 
world." 

"One faith has existed in India as a reform of Brahman- 
ism, and has extended to China, Japan and other coun- 
tries, which in the life of its founder and the truths he 
taught showed a peculiar divine inspiration that brought 

* Author of " Gesta Christi " and " The Eaces of the Old World." 



6 THE RELIABLE AND 

it in many respects very near to Christianity. Undoubt- 
edly in the original form of this relig-ion are seen the 
workings of the Divine Spirit on a most pure and exalted 
human soul. Indeed the truths taught by Gautama 
.Buddha seem to be foregleams of those taught by Christ. 
Never has compassion been more divinely illustrated in a 
human life ; nowhere are self-sacrifice, human brother- 
hood, universal benevolence and sympathy, and purity 
of heart and life more directly taught than in the v/ords 
transmitted of Sakya-Muni. The Buddhist legends might 
well say that all nature budded into spring, and a thrill of 
joy reached every animated being, that the blind saw, and 
the dumb spake, that prisoners were set free and the 
flames of hell extinguished, and a mighty sound of music 
arose from heaven and earth when a human soul so pure 
and holy, so filled with an almost infinite compassion, 
began its life in the body." (Gesta Christi, pp. 445-51.) 

All these old scriptures have much similarity in char- 
acter, and the quotation just made is an admission that 
the best of them possess a comparative equaHty in moral 
or spiritual value. Indeed the slight superiority which 
]\Ir. Brace attributes to Christianity is only what the ad- 
herents of all religions are in the habit of attributing to 
their own, and assuming to be greater than the critic can 
allow ; though in this case the claimant is unusually fair. 

All of them contain traces of philosophy, that is, some 
explanation of cosmic and human origin ; they all pre- 
scribe rites, sacrifices, and observances having regard to 
spiritual beings ; and all give some kind of ordinances for 
influencing the conduct of men toward each other. The 
three subjects of philosophy, religion and morals are more 
or less mixed — not separated as with us of modern times 
— and there are various other matters of less pretension. 
Most of them agree in having some portion that comes 
through prophets and seers from a spiritual source, a 
misty, undefined and little-known region outside the or- 
dinary world, and this portion is what is here meant by 
revelation. In fact, prophets, seers, mediums, and all the 



THE UNRELIABLE / 

phenomena of Spiritualism, seem to have been as famihar 
to the ancients as to the present generation ; and were 
looked upon with much more respect. It has been com- 
monly supposed that Buddhism has no spirit world ; but 
many scholars think, on the contrary, that the Nirwana 
of that doctrine is not a state of extinction for the entire 
consciousness, but only of the supposed baser, material 
part. The Chinese doctrines appear to have a greater 
share of philosophy and less of spiritual teaching. 

No society of any kind can exist without morality ; 
and none considerably civilized, like those of the an- 
cient world, without morality of a corresponding degree. 
Hence all the sacred books contain moral instruction. 
There is a variety in their injunctions ; for what may be 
thought good morality in one country, or one state of 
society, may not in another. Yet there are certain great 
principles, such as regard for life, for property, for the 
family, for justice in a general sense, which are found 
in all systems and doctrines, as being essentials to any 
social existence. 

This sort of moral teaching — mostly upon spiritual au- 
thority or the word of the prophet — is the only moral 
teaching that Asia, Africa and Eastern Europe have ever 
had ; indeed even Western Europe and America can hardly 
yet be said to possess any other. 

Of the political morality of these old authorities it is 
necessary to say only that they knew nothing of liberty 
or democracy ; theocracy or despotism was all. Of their 
religion and philosophy it may be well to speak a little 
further. 

At the time the Asiatic and Egyptian civilizations were 
flourishing the greater part of their knowledge was held 
by the priesthood or professional caste, the military, trad- 
ing and laboring classes being supposed to have known 
little beyond what was required in the performance of 



8 THE RELIABLE AND 

their functions. It is commonly assumed that the priests 
kept it within their own order for the purpose of thereby 
securing their own power and importance, though it is 
possible to believe that along with this they had another 
and less selfish motive , as will soon appear. 

According to the evidences now being discovered by 
scholars in ancient lore, certain secret societies, either 
within or above the priesthoods, and superior to all others 
in their mystical knowledge, existed over nearly all the 
civilized parts of Asia and Africa. After their decrease 
and loss of influence by the decay of these old nations, the 
lingering remnants of their membership were scattered 
over Europe during the Middle Ages, and some few soci- 
eties yet remain, still attempting to preserve the old 
knowledge and teaching in its purity. Some portion of 
their symbolism, probably with the less vital part of its 
meaning, has also come down to us under the guise of 
Free-Masonry. The Theosophical movement of the last 
few years is an effort by some present thinkers to get ac- 
quainted with their ancient doctrines and mysteries. 

Among the leading ideas of the religious philosophy 
taught by them was that of a great spiritual Source or 
Origin of all things, having a name of such peculiar 
sacredness as to be in some localities ineffable to ordi- 
nary men and known only to the few, while in other 
parts its utterance was supposed to give a sanctifying 
virtue. Creation was by emanation from this source ; 
and it is to the credit of the old thinkers that creation from 
nothing was never thought of till the time of the Christian 
Fathers. There was a division of all the emanations into 
two great worlds, one of goodness and light, the spir- 
itual; the other material, dark and evil. There was a 
three-fold distribution of man into body, soul and spirit, 
the body being further of two kinds, the familiar material 
one, and one of a finer substance imperceptible to ordi- 
nary sensation. The development of the soul was ac- 



THE UNRELIABLE 9 

complished by its transmigration through various bodies 
and lives, till its final attainment of the spirit, and absorp- 
tion into its parent source, the Absolute All. 

Egypt and India were the centers of this philosophy, 
which was almost wholly speculative and spiritualistic. 
It is believed to underlie Brahmanism, Buddhism, and the 
Hermetic ''Wisdom of the Egyptians." It was probably 
known to the Persian Magi, and to the wiser part of the 
priesthood of the Jews. Apparently it is the fount and 
origin of all the rational spirituality of all the world's great 
religions. Prophets, seers and poets have added to it 
their contributions ; and priests have represented it to 
the populace in symbols, images and ceremonial rites, 
which have gradually lost all proper meaning and finally 
become mere idol worship or dead formality. 

Materialism, as a philosophy, though it must have ex- 
isted latently, was scarcely known to the Eastern world 
except to a slight extent in India at a comparatively late 
period. 

How ancient the secret brotherhoods may have been no 
one knows. How they came by their mysteries and alle- 
gories is explained only by the supposition that under the 
moral progress of a growing civilization they had come to 
experience certain exalted states of mind, which only a 
few persons unusually favored by nature could realize, 
and which to the masses therefore were wholly incon- 
ceivable. These, and the conceptions belonging to them, 
which to themselves were sacred, they embodied m alle- 
gories, and transferred to them some of the old symbols 
of the primitive sun-earth-and-sky worship, with a new 
and higher meaning, in order to preserve the knowledge 
of them, or some hints of it at least, to a later and more 
favorable time. 

A considerable share of the mass of Eastern traditions, 
allegories, and religious dogmas became incorporated in 
Christianity ; some of it coming from Egypt, some from 



10 THE RELIABLE AND 

the Persian Magism, some from the Hebrews, some from 
the Gnostics, and some from the Greek philosophy of 
Pythagoras and Plato. Thus it has influenced all Chris- 
tendom down to the present time. 

But Christianity as it now is, and ever since it became 
an estabhshed rehgion, is far from being a true child of its 
ancient parentage, or anything but a poor representative 
of the ideas taught by the old brotherhood of prophets and 
thinkers. The archaic doctrines may have been adulter- 
ated and debased before Christianity obtained them, but 
if so she still further diluted, confused and corrupted them, 
till they became scarce recognizable, and turned the old 
allegories into extravagant relations of actual fact, with a 
literal meaning to every word, thus compelling the mind 
to stultify itself by a blind, senseless belief, or else skepti- 
cally to reject them, with all the associated teachings of 
the Church. To those who care to know how much 
truth there can be in this paragraph I commend the reading 
of a single book, written by two students of the ancient 
wisdom, and called ''The Perfect Way, or The Finding of 
Christ. " Christianity has a virtue of its own in its power 
to arouse enthusiasm ; but in rationality it falls far behind 
the olden type. 

As already stated, the wisdom of the ancients was 
largely an esoteric wisdom. The best part of it was 
never given to the public except in symbolical dress, nor 
even to the lower grades of the instructed. Only the few 
who had reached the highest degree of merit, through 
their own elevated character and intelligence, could know 
the \vhole. If transferred to the populace the most 
sacred truths would be misunderstood, doubted, despised 
and profaned; while its teachers, becoming objects of 
suspicion and dislike, would lose whatever influence for 
good they possessed. This is the natural result of plac- 
ing before men knowledge of what is beyond their experi- 
ence, and hence beyond their ability to apprehend or 



THE UNRELIABLE II 

believe, according to the well-understood law that all 
knowledge must come through some kind of sensation or 
experience. That truth of a high order was possessed by 
some of these teachers will be readily admitted by all 
enquirers who through their own experience come to 
understand what it was ; for it was the kernel truth of all 
religion. 

Here is an obvious reason why it is that we discover 
in the old civilizations the traces of an elaborate philoso- 
phy, a monotheistic religion, and a high standard of 
moral excellence, existing at the same time and place with 
the lowest forms of polytheism, idolatry, and sensuality; 
the former for the happy few who could attain to it, the 
latter for the great mass who could conceive of nothing 
better. With no means for the ready and general diffu- 
sion of intelligence, the mental condition could hardly 
have been different. 

In our own times, and our own religion, we still see 
something of the same kmd — at one extreme an educated, 
thoughtful and moralized class, at the other a more num- 
erous body, still worshipping charms, images, and a 
plurality of gods little better than demons, with elaborate 
ritual ceremony, while possessing no higher moral ambi- 
tion than is accordant with sensual gratification and vain 
display. The difference between our time and the past is 
that we have a large intermediate class, partially edu- 
cated, and to some extent thoughtful. But even the 
esoteric feature is not absent. Many intelligent persons 
believe esoterically what they find it inexpedient to utter 
publicly. They find that when a truth transcending the 
experience of any group or class of persons is offered 
them by one more advanced it is immediately miscon- 
cieved, likened to something base, and the author sus- 
pected, maligned, or hated, for no fault except that of hav- 
ing too much faith in humanity. The private conviction, 
and public expression will continue to be at variance in 



12 THE RELIABLE AND 

some degree until the advanced thought and the common 
opinion are more nearly alike than they have ever yet 
been. 

In regard to all this there is but one special point that 
needs to be emphasized. A part of the old sacred books 
claims to have come through revelation ; and the whole 
religious, philosophic, and moral movement belonging 
to their mfluence, and that of the sages referred to, is 
predominantly spiritualistic. Admitting a world of spirit- 
ual existences, there would then seem to have been a 
time when that world readily gave revelations to this, 
through prophets and seers, with a design of teach- 
ing the morality necessary to social life and mdividual 
development; and to enforce it by such religious con- 
siderations as would be effective among selfish and su- 
perstitious races of men. Certain revelations have come, 
and they seem adapted to the nature of those who have 
received them. Possibly they were the only kind of 
teaching that would have been accepted at all. Though 
differing at different times and places, they all appear to 
have had the purpose of making men better, more moral, 
more unselfish. They have operated through hope and 
through fear, and the sacrifices of selfish interest that 
hopes and fears have induced. It seems to me proba- 
ble that some good result has been thus accomplished. 
Whether a large amount or not may be questioned ; but 
the more appropriate question is whether any good effect 
at all could have been produced by a teaching that did 
not act upon men's fears through their superstitions, 
and by raising false hopes equal to their fears. Strong 
motives only could move the coarse, simple, indolent, 
brutal, nature of the primitive man. Taking this view, 
the instruction was suited to a weak, ignorant, selfish, 
and m all respects childish or immature condition of 
humanity — a childishness not so much that of the civ- 
ihzed child as that of the child barbarian. 



THE UNRELIABLE 13 

In modern Europe and America we still have seers, 
prophets and revelations. But they are not distinguished 
like the old ones, no such reverence attaches to them, 
and being new and well known they are not traditions. 
The bringers of them do not cultivate any special secrecy, 
and their teachings are in plain language designed for all. 
What, they tell us professes to be more rational than the 
ancient deliverances, more scientific, more correctly des- 
criptive of the spirit world and of what goes on there. 
The doctrines taught are not yet authoritative, but the proc- 
ess of making them so has commenced, and but for the 
competition of newer ones, only time would be needed for 
the older ones to be endowed with that character. They 
are intermediate between tradition and science, showing 
the effect of scientific influence, and illustrating the fact 
that progress or improvement characterizes even this 
strange process of revelation. Their influence is not yet 
great, but they seem entitled to mention in connection 
with the two great extremes that constitute our subject. 
In Europe the most notable of these have been given by 
Emanuel Swedenborg, in America by A. J. Davis. 

Dogma and Speculative Philosophy, like Tradition and 
Revelation, have a close relationship. We have re- 
ligious dogmas, like that of the Fatherhood of God and 
the Brotherhood of Man, and less important ones thought 
out by the speculative founders of churches, creeds and 
sects ; we have political ones, such as the Divine Right 
of Kings, or the claim that All Men are born Free and 
Equal ; we have moral ones, such as Freedom of the 
W^ill, or the right to Freedom of Conscience and Opinion ; 
and we have economic ones, like the right of Freedom in 
Trade. Most of them have a similarity in being the re- 
sult of deductive speculation, in which a part of the prem- 
ises is always left out, and unreal assumptions put in. 
When submitted to verification by being put in practice, 



14 THE RELIABLE AND 

or by testing their origins, they all alike fail, either 
wholly or in part. The results of criticism or of practice 
never justify the expectations. When we look around 
us we see no indication that God, more than the devil, is 
the father of all men; neither is there a brotherhood, in 
race or in sentimental feeling. Modern Physiology and 
Psychology do not prove the freedom of the will, nor is 
the ignorant and vicious person morally entitled to free- 
dom of conscience and opinion. However much it 
ought to be true that we are all born free and with equal 
rights, there is no such equality. And in these times, 
when every one thinks and talks of the Labor question, 
it is not difficult to perceive that competition is never 
free, and that the outcome of it as it really is, does not 
prove the rightfulness of greater freedom any more than 
it does the opposite, if as much. Thus all such doc- 
trines have a common faultiness, unlike the truth of 
Science, by means of which we can predict with certain- 
ty, and accomplish what we set out to realize. 

It -is but just, however, to admit that many dogmas 
belong to that order of truth called Theoretical, which 
would be true" if the materials dealt with were perfect, 
and will be practical in proportion as we attain to the 
final perfection of all things. They are therefore truths 
when rightly apprehended ; but taken as they are com- 
monly understood, to be applicable now, or as right 
under all circumstances, they are only false, delusive and 
disappointing. The requirements of absolute morality, 
as well as some of the dogmas above named, are of this 
nature. 

Deductive or Speculative Philosophy is as old as civili- 
zation, and flourishes still. It reached almost as high a 
development in ancient India as it has in modern Europe. 
One system has followed another all through the history 
of human thought, the last being as purely speculative 



THE UNRELIABLE I 5 

as the first. Of the old philosophers Plato is the only 
one that is now much read. Of the modern movement, 
largely Transcendental, no one theory continues to hold 
much influence except that Scotch-English one called 
Common Sense, which asserts the external world as a 
reality, and the testimony of the senses as reliable. The 
Pessimism contained in the writings of Schopenhauer and 
Hartmann attracts some attention, and the Agnosticism 
of Comte, Huxley and Spencer has a degree of popu- 
larity ; but neither of these is sufficiently near the final 
truth to long satisfy the human mind, and the prediction 
is here ventured that both of them will give way to a 
scientific Ontology more perfect than that of the Evolu- 
tion philosophy as represented by Herbert Spencer. 

In this country, where many speculative works are 
published, no one takes any strong hold upon the public 
mind. Of the latest development in Europe, the doc- 
trine of Herman Lotze, I know nothing, but anticipate 
that it will share the fate of all the rest. Thus from the 
great amount of mental activity spent in this manner but 
little effect now remains. The Positivists have said and 
written much upon this failure of their opponents ; but 
Positivism itself, so far as it is Comtism, is something of 
a speculation, and its own failure is about equal to that 
of others. Something, it is true, has been gained, out of 
the whole philosophic movement, but not enough to 
secure a basis for the organization of thought, to bring 
the satisfaction of "Enlightenment, or in any manner ac- 
complish any great good. Like the old mixture of tra- 
dition, thought, and revelation, this kind of teaching 
belongs to the unreliable class. As the old was suited to 
a childish age, and produced by it, so speculation may 
be said to belong to the boyhood or early maturity of the 
race, analogous to that time in the life of the individual 
when the reasoning faculty begins to assert itself, when 
logic appears to be infallible, and the youth has not yet 



l6 THE RELIABLE AND 

learned that what must he does not always agree with 
what is. 

I come now to speak of Science, or the class of ideas 
that is most positive and reliable. By this is meant mod- 
ern science, which though as old as the race in one sense, 
is yet so largely modern there is no impropriety in so 
defining it ; which began its investigations in the material 
world, and as there now seems reason for thinking, is 
not going to end them till it has reached and explored 
the spiritual. It is the antithesis of both tradition and 
philosophy (deductive) in teaching nothing upon the au- 
thority of seers, prophets, or other revelators ; nothing 
because it is ancient, time-honored, and respectable ; 
nothing as dogma or the outcome of speculation. Cus- 
tom, law, precedent and convention are of no account to 
it, except as facts in themselves, or as indicating a certain 
amount of probability. It acknowledges nothing as be- 
yond candid criticism; it has nothing sacred but the 
truth. It investigates every part of the universe and of 
man with equal impartiality, save that the most easily 
examined is the first to be made known. It has no 
mysteries but are free to any one who chooses to learn 
them. It depends only on observed facts and general- 
ized laws, and these are what it recognizes as the only 
final authority. Religion, myths, morals, politics it 
examines as it does any other phenomena, and reports 
what it can learn. Whichever syster|| of either may best 
endure the test of time and criticism is to it a matter of 
indifference. It is confident that the one best adapted to 
the present wants of human nature will take the lead. 
It has, or should have, no preferences for anything. Its 
only proper object is to ascertain truth. Individual sci- 
entists may have preferences, for no one is entirely free 
from that species of imperfection we call bigotry ; but 
the general aim, aspiration, spirit and intent of the scien- 
tific body is nearly such as that just described. 



THE UNRELIABLE I7 

Science however, is not an extreme or antagonistic 
opposite of all former knowledge and opinion, as might 
be misunderstood from its being here set over against 
everything else. But it is a more complete, thorough 
and systematic knowledge, of the same kind as any im- 
perfect knowledge, preceding it, that has a real basis of 
fact. It is the knowledge or assertion that has a pre- 
dominance of certainty instead of uncertainty. It is sub- 
ject to the law of Evolution, and advances from the 
indefinite and incomplete to its more perfect stage. 
Hence it has been already said that portions of truth 
capable of entering into definite and positive science 
exist among those notions that have here been de- 
fined as the Unreliable, and put under the head of 
Nescience. 

Science begins with those phenomena most familiar to 
us. The bodies, materials, and m.otions upon the earth's 
surface ; the orbs of space, and their movements in 
time ; the crust of our own planet, and the life that is 
developed upon it ; have successively come under its 
prying scrutiny. INIind, a more recondite and difficult 
subject, has been studied considerably, but investigators 
have learned that they need all the knowledge they can 
obtain from the forms of life below man in order to study 
successfully the mental organism. Psychology or men- 
tal science is therefore less advanced than the purely 
physical, or the lower biological branches of knowledge. 
Sociology, another and very large department of science, 
is quite new. It embraces History, or the origin, 
growth and development of the social organism ; Gov- 
ernment, Law, and Political Economy, which deal with 
its structure and functions ; Morals and Education, which 
instruct regarding the duties of society to the individual, 
and of individuals to each other and to society as a 
whole. All these large subjects, besides Public Sanita- 
tion and Hygiene, Charities, War, and Criminal Reform, 



1 8 THE RELIABLE AND 

belong to Sociology. Something regarding them has 
been known, of course, ever since the beginning of so- 
ciety ; but how little may be inferred when we look over 
the world's history, and see what poor success has at- 
tended social efforts ; how all the ancient civilized com- 
munities have gone down to ruin and death so utterly 
that only wrecks and monuments remain of all their 
greatness ; how the whole of Asia and Africa is in a state 
of moral and physical decay, ready to fall in pieces at 
every touch of the strong hand of Modern Europe ; how 
all over Europe itself millions of men are kept under arms 
to prevent its neighboring nations from conquering and 
robbing each other; while scores, if not hundreds, of 
thousands of other men, in secret bands, are pledged to 
destroy the whole social fabric completely, and start anew 
from a state of anarchy to build up one better adapted to 
human happiness. Even in our own country, with the 
best and happiest society ever yet evolved, let one think 
of the horrors in all our great cities ;'of the gambling and 
speculation of all sorts, from the most honorable down to 
the meanest ; of the hells of prostitution and pre-natal 
infanticide ; the dens of robbery and theft ; the filth, dis- 
ease, degradation, poverty and misery of every descrip- 
tion ; let him think of the same crimes and miseries 
scattered all over our country districts, like heads of rust 
in a field of grain ; and besides all this continuous evil, 
let him consider the occasional misfortunes of war, pesti- 
lence, floods, fires, railroad massacres, and a thousand 
avoidable accidents ; and he will be ready to conclude 
that we know but little yet of social science, and are but 
poorly qualified for social life. 

Sociology, however, like all the other Sciences, has 
been making progress. It, like Psychology, could only 
advance slowly till knowledge had been gained in the 
lower departments of life to be applied in the study 
of society — till society itself was seen to be an organ- 



THE UNRELIABLE I9 

ism, subject to the laws governing other organisms; 
till its origin was studied in the life of savage races, and 
history scrutinized to trace its evolution to the present 
stage. 

Of late years this science has been going forward rap- 
idly through the labors of many distinguished men in 
Europe, and a smaller number in America. There is 
much diversity yet in the utterances of those who repre- 
sent it ; but it professes to have something to say con- 
cerning politics, morals, economy, and education. The 
best minds are looking to it for a help they can get from 
no other source, and it is probable they wull not be 
disappointed ; though considerable time must elapse be- 
fore there can be general agreement. 

Sociology, in the large sense given to it, is the last and 
highest of the sciences, but one field of research, both 
physical and mental, yet remains, that is almost new. 
I have said that Science would not cease its work till it 
had investigated the spiritual as well as the material. It 
has already turned its attention toward this domain, as 
evidenced by a number of "societies for psychical re- 
search," with their collections of facts, in addition to 
what individual Spiritualists and others have done before 
them. There are so-called spiritual sensations almost as 
intense and vivid as a blow upon the head or a flash of 
light. There is a spiritual experience, so-called, which 
to those who pass through it is as real as anything in 
their whole lives, and makes an impression that is never 
obliterated. To suppose that these are always to be 
ignored by scientific men is to assume that people will 
continue to be as bigoted and foolish as at present ; which 
is contrary to Evolution and to all intellectual progress. 
On the contrary, all the great mass of strange fact and 
feeling, formerly put aside as unworthy of notice, but 
now beginning to be recognized, is yet to become an 



20 THE RELIABLE AND 

organized and systematic body of psychologic and spirit- 
ual science. 

The Unreliable and the Reliable are now seen to be of 
very different character. What is their proper relation to 
each other.? Are they totally opposed, or are they com- 
plements, one adapted to one stage of mental growth and 
one to another.? Is one to absorb the other, and if so 
which.? Or is one to destroy the other and take its 
place.? These are the questions that agitate the minds of 
the present generation more than anything else. Some 
believe that the two things are totally opposed and hos- 
tile ; that as Science grows Tradition with all its connec- 
ted religious notions must decline till it finally becomes 
extinct, like all superstitions and delusions ; for they see 
in it nothing else. A much larger party believe that 
traditional religion cannot be destroyed; that it has a 
field and will occupy it, one that Science cannot enter ; 
that religious feelings and experiences are a reality which 
no science can convert into superstition ; that Science 
indeed cannot reach their level, or know much about 
them, because they are discerned only through the Spirit. 
Another, and smaller party hold that religion is to make 
a final conquest of Science by absorbing it all into itself, 
without serious conflict or contradiction, yet retaining its 
own peculiar province as something beyond all science. 
Still another small party, who acknowledge a natural 
religious sentiment, and of whom Herbert Spencer is a 
prominent representative, believe that Science will ulti- 
mately destroy all traditional or revealed religion except 
the idea of an absolute and infinite Being, of which 
nothing can be known save its infinity and absoluteness ; 
and this is ever to remain as the final object of all re- 
ligious contemplation. 

Finally, there is one other position that may be taken, 
which is that Science is ultimately to embrace and swal- 



THE UNRELIABLE 21 

low up all of traditional and philosophic religion that is 
of any value, dissipating all its dross and superstition in 
the process, and bringing it all into its own field, partly 
as moral or social science, and partly as spiritual science. 
In other words, science is to extend itself so widely as 
to include everything that can be known to experience 
by any kind of sensation or emotion, the religious and 
spiritual no less than the material. However mystical 
and indescribable some of those experiences may be as 
yet, they are sometime to be analyzed, classified, and 
explained; though not in such a manner that all can 
fully understand them ; for it is a law of mind that no 
one can conceive the nature of an experience beyond 
what he has himself realized. Nor is this to be done 
immediately. But by the slow and sure method Science 
always takes it will in time come to the work and carry 
it through. 

Philosophy and Dogma are likely to have a similar fate. 
The domain of the former will finally be taken in by 
science, and a scientific philosophy replace the specula- 
tive ; as in fact it already does except in the department 
of Ontology, that science which deals with the elements 
of the Universe — the conditions and materials that exist 
before the process of evolution begins. Dogmas, so far 
as they are theoretical or absolute truths, will be under- 
stood as such and taken as standards to be continually 
approximated, after which they become science by virtue 
of being known as they really are, and estimated at their 
true value. Though much will be saved much will also 
be cast away, and the process as a whole will amount to 
a revolution in the whole world of thought. 

It is in agreement with this view that one of the two 
great classes of ideas is adapted to a childish or im- 
mature stage of mental growth, the other to a more ad- 
vanced one. The work proposed to be done is similar 
to what is already being performed by every individual. 



22 THE RELIABLE AND 

When the child becomes a man, and through better edu- 
cation and experience gains a knowledge superior to 
that of his parents, he revises the ideas taught him in 
his infancy, discarding some as entirely erroneous, modi- 
fying and improving others, confirming all that are sound 
and useful. Tradition, dogma and speculation, no matter 
what the subject of them, are what the race is taught in 
its childhood and youth ; science is what it afterward 
learns, and uses to correct the former. There is a criti- 
cism of traditional art, now going on among artists, which 
may be taken as one illustration of the process. And I 
shall endeavor to show, farther along, that the more 
advanced part of the r^c^ is approaching a point in its 
development corresponding to that period when the in- 
dividual passes from childhood into maturity. 

If in these papers, therefore, I occupy such a position 
as just described, in which Science becomes the super- 
ior and critic of everything else, I trust that no one will 
in advance suspect me of endeavoring to destroy aught of 
good that has been taught us by Religion or Philosophy. 
Criticism, by clearing away what is false or unworthy 
will only leave what remains more beautiful and attrac- 
tive to rational minds. And for all that is destroyed 
or cast away something better is likely to be sub- 
stituted. . . 

Let us next consider what motive there is for an at- 
tempt to harmonize the Unreliable and the Reliable-^the 
Traditional, the Revealed, the Speculative and the Scienti- 
fic — more truly and thoroughly than has ever yet been 
accomplished. Forty years ago Auguste Comte called 
the state of thought existing in Europe an .''intellectual 
anarchy." It was an anarchy extending to everything, 
religion, morals, politics, philosophy. The teachers 
upon all subjects were divided into parties, sects, factions 
and schools, with perpetual clash and disorder, but with 



THE UNRELIABLE 23 

no harmonious, connected and permanent body of truths 
coming- forth as the result of conflict. Since then the 
anarchy, except in one department, has steadily become 
worse. Science alone has manifested any power to 
strenethen and make certain its ideas, and unite its 
adherents. Outside of it additional sects, parties and 
schools have sprung up. The disorganizing tendency 
has not only broken one branch of the church into small 
fragments, but in many minds has destroyed the belief 
of any reality whatever in religion itself. In politics, 
though the old conservative and progressive parties still 
remain, several new parties of Socialists have arisen, 
some of them with aims not very definite, but one, as 
radical as the atheistic in the religious world, proposing 
to abolish the state entirely and all legalized government. 
Philosophy has put forth new branches, but the futility 
of all of them has become so apparent to many that the 
popular skepticism called Agnosticism has largely taken 
the place of philosophy and faith. 

Like the egg of an animal organism, which when im- 
pregnated by the male principle proceeds to divide itself, 
and continues to divide and redivide its parts till they 
are reduced to a mass, of fine cells, preparatory to 
being organized, so the European church, when once 
the vitality of free scientific thought entered it, as it did 
before the Protestant Reformation, began to divide, and 
has continued the process of redivision till a considerable 
portion of it is now reduced to that chaotic, individualized 
condition in which it knows nothing satisfactory, has no 
attractions toward any existing center, and is ready to be 
organized anew whenever some indisp.utable scientific 
truth or system of truths can be presented as a fit nucleus 
around which individuals may gather and take on the 
functions of a vital, growing, developing body. The 
state is not yet disorganized to the same extent as the 
church, but as the elements of an equally radical change 



24 THE RELIABLE AND 

exist in it there is only a question of time whe7i it will 
reach the same condition. 

Comte made an heroic effort to unite all science into 
one connected and positive system ; and through that 
to organize a new church, a new state, and a new in- 
dustrial order. But his conceptions proved too limited 
and too unprogressive for success; and so Positivism 
became, and still remains, little more than a name. 
Herbert Spencer, with a broader view and a more cath- 
olic and liberal disposition, has made a second effort 
to organize science, with an accompanying aspiration 
to improve the present state of thought regarding pol- 
itics, religion and morals. He has gathered to his 
standard a much larger number of adherents, but he 
too has limitations, and his scheme is not final. To 
say nothing of his metaphysics, will a system that 
ignores all spiritual and religious experience as delusion 
ever be taken as complete by the majority of intelligent 
people.? To suppose it will may be a delusion equal to 
any of the opposite sort. 

An attempt to accomplish the same work through 
speculation has been made in this country, but appar- 
ently with very little result. The anarchy of thought 
continues, and in the industrial and political worlds, 
where its results are worst, it is accompanied by fearful 
deeds that threaten to bring on a physical anarchy equal 
to the confusion of thought in the general mind. The 
serious danger of a long period of disorder, turbulence 
and crime^ if the present tendency goes on blindly to 
its termination, furnishes sufficient motive for the best 
exertions of any thinker, and sufficient excuse for his 
efforts, even though they involve some unusual pre- 
tensions, as every such effort necessarily does. 

Hitherto, as before said, nearly all teaching upon 
moral and social subjects has been from tradition. 



THE UNRELIABLE 25 

revelation and dogma, or the less reliable side of human 
thought. The generality of people, including many of 
the educated, have no idea of looking to Science for 
any authoritative and practical moral truth. To them 
Science is still physical, and is liable to step out of its 
proper sphere if it aspires to anything higher. Yet it is 
becoming animated by this ambition more and more, 
and the higher kind of teaching is likely to be one of its 
principal applications in the future. For instance, few 
suppose the law of Natural Selection or survival of the 
fittest has any connection with morality, or that the 
sociologist can make it aid him in understanding 
society. But already certain thinkers have shown it to 
have a bearing upon society, and others are anxious to 
use it as a justification for all existing • social evils. 
Hence the moralist will be compelled to take it into 
account. Various other scientific truths have relation 
to social welfare ; and the exposition of some of these 
special relations is to be the principal work of the suc- 
ceeding essays. 

Many persons are already engaged in the commend- 
able labor of popularizing science, and it is not my 
purpose to intrude seriously into their field ; but to go 
farther and enter anew one; to carry the application 
of science into the more unusual themes and subjects, 
some of them the most important of all. Though treat- 
ing them from the standpoint of science, a close agree- 
ment with representative scientific men is not always to 
be expected. I anticipate using scientific data, to draw 
from them whatever conclusions my own thought will 
enable me to do, in order to obtain from science all that 
is possible for my purposes. And the endeavor will be 
to make every idea and statement so plain that persons 
of fair intelligence will have little difficulty in getting a 
clear apprehension of what is advanced. 

In the first of the succeeding essays an atcempt will 



26 THE RELIABLE AND 

be made to explain how the moral or altruistic feeling 
originates, and to trace its evolution through various 
forms into a final stage of complete unselfishness. This 
last stage has never yet been reached, except possibly 
in very few and rare instances ; while my desire is to 
show that it can be attained by a considerable number, 
and to make as plain as may be the way of such attain- 
ment. To do so it is manifest that I must point out 
causes of failure that have remained unnoticed by 
preachers and moralists ; that new views must be opened 
out, that new inducements to moral effort must be 
brought forward, and better means of accomplishing 
the proposed result exhibited. Lessons in science and 
scientific theory are to be given, in order to bring out 
the truth thai; bears upon ethical feeling and conduct. 
Better conceptions of the essential nature of religion 
and art, and the true purposes of both will have to be 
presented. Socialism needs to be seen in a clearer 
light, and a more scientific character given to all its de- 
velopments. Not least of all must be shown the neces- 
sity of discussion in an unselfish spirit, with sincere 
respect for opposed thought, and a willingness to learn 
equal to the desire to teach; of which I shall myself 
be held obligated to furnish an example. The ulti- 
mate purpose of the whole investigation is, through the 
achievement of the Unselfish Condition, to prepare the 
beginning of that Ideal Society which, as I shall here- 
after show, is alike the object of the religionist and the 
secularist. 

Of course this labor is very far from being an easy 
task for any one ; the program is too large to be fully 
carried out in a short time, or with any proper com- 
pleteness in a first attempt. Everything begins in the 
imperfect and advances toward the perfect. Some al- 
lowance for this necessary -mperfection must be made 
by the reader in order to avoid disappointment. And as 



THE UNRELIABLE 2/ 

the same language probably means something slightly- 
different to every different person, so long as words 
have to be used in different senses, it is well that this 
also should be taken into account. 

Religion and Philosophy, Christian and other kinds 
alike, have continually failed to create and establish a 
condition of mind and of society like that here sugges- 
ted. The same failure has attended the socialistic ef- 
forts of those who have depended only on a speculative 
or imperfect secular wisdom. And as both Religion and 
Speculation are losing instead of increasing their guid- 
ing power over mind, it becomes reasonable to expect 
that if such a mental and social state is ever to be 
reached, it will be through the aid of a more advanced 
and more comprehensive science. 

I have said that either with or without a philosophy 
scientific truth would make progress, and that Ontology 
itself, like all other departments of knowledge, would 
probably in time take on a demonstrable and positive 
character. In reality a philosophy somewhat answering 
to this conception exists latent under the peculiar char- 
acter of this book, and all its most original positions. 
It is a philosophy of oppositeness, but not in the main 
of antagonism ; and has in it an unselfish quality that 
operates toward the harmonization of apparently antag- 
onistic ideas. An illustration will aid in giving some 
conception of what is meant. 

If we suppose an ignorant Arab from the torrid zone, 
and an equally ignorant Siberian from near the Arctic 
Circle to be taught a common language and brought 
together midway between their homes, in a place where 
they cannot see the outside world for reference, and 
these two should then set out to enlighten each other on 
points of astronomy and natural history, their statements 
would necessarily vary to the utmost extent ; while as 



28 THE RELIABLE AND 

each knows of nothing beyond his own horizon, and 
can conceive of nothing beyond his own experience, 
there ^ould be occasion for constant disputes. The 
Arab would tell how the sun rises suddenly out of the 
darkness, directly in the east, passes up directly over- 
head, and goes down directly in the west, when after a 
few minutes of twihght the day is succeeded by a night 
of nearly the same length as its own — twelve hours. 
The Siberian with astonishment asserts that he knows 
nothing of such days and nights, and cannot believe the 
story ; on the contrary that the sun instead of passing 
up into the sky, goes round and round the horizon from 
left to right, a little above it in summer, and far below 
in winter ; that the days in summer and nights in winter 
may be fifteen, twenty, or even twenty-four hours long, 
one after another ; and that the twilight in spring and 
fall lasts nearly all night. He proceeds to tell of all 
the changes of the seasons, which to the other mean 
nothing, and when he speaks of the water frozen into 
hard ice which he travels upon or cuts up into blocks 
to build a hut with, this is altogether past belief and 
makes the man of the tropics lose all faith in his arctic 
brother. He too may talk of his tall palms, his camels, 
lions, and elephants, and the stranger birds that come 
to him in the coldest part of the year to go away in the 
warmer ; while the arctic man will doubt the possibility 
of such trees and animals, and knowing that his strange 
birds come to him in warm weather to go away as it 
gets colder, he will naturally suspect his high-nosed 
friend to be a liar and fraud. The longer they talk the 
more fiercely they will assert and deny, ending with a 
very poor opinion of each other if not downright hatred ; 
though each asserts only what he has seen, and has 
no intention of being dishonest at all. 

To the scientist, who knows all the phenomena of 
both regions, and the additional fact, unknown to both 



THE UNRELIABLE 29 

disputants, that to every one alike, whether he stands at 
the equator or the pole, his head seems to be up and his 
feet down, when in reality the bodily axes at those 
points are perpendicular to each other — to him there is 
no occasion for dispute ; the wholeness of knowledge 
renders everything consistent and harmonious. He 
further knows that the continually varying position of 
the earth in its orbit, along with the fixed direction of its 
axis, causes all the variation of appearances in the re- 
gions toward the poles, and the uniformity of season at 
the tropics. He sees a quality of oppositeness in the 
causes that produce, in the resulting physical effects, 
and in the men themselves, as well as in their views of 
the world. He could enable them to understand each 
other and be friends if they would acquire his knowl- 
edge, and enough experience of climates to appreciate 
the effects of heat and cold. Yet if he should say this to 
them they, in their ignorance, would be very likely to 
treat him also as a pretender, full of ignorant conceit. 
And as I should be liable to a similar suspicion were I 
to assert that all real disputes, as well as this imaginary 
one, can be settled and harmonized by sufficient ex- 
perience and a wholeness of knowledge in those who 
differ, I shall refrain from such assertion, and go no 
farther than to state that a similar philosophy is behind 
a. large part of what is put forth in the chapters that 
follow. 

The general subject of the whole series will appro- 
priately be The Kingdom of The Unselfish. And as the 
unselfish state is no less a wise one, the same domain 
is also The Empire of The Wise. It may not be amiss 
to say further that these productions have no connection 
with any existing sect, party or ism, any society or or- 
ganization whatever, except that universal social organ- 
ism into which every one is born, and from which no 



30 THE RELIABLE AND THE UNRELIABLE 

one naturally wishes to become entirely isolated. They 
are addressed, as all scientific truth should be, to every 
one alike, regardless of external name or condition, who 
has the ability and willingness to think and learn. 




CHAPTER II. 



THE EVOLUTION OF MORALITY. 



IN what 1 have to say upon the general subject of 
this book I prefer to use the old and common Eng- 
lish words se^sA and unselfish to distinguish two great 
classes of actions and motives, in preference to the Latin 
ones egoism and allruism, often used by late writers, or 
natural and spiritual as used by the religious world. 
There is little difference in the meaning of the three sets 
of terms ; but the last is not fully understood by all, 
while egoism and altruism are still less familiar. Moral 
and immoral are hardly comprehensive enough even 
if the religious and irreligious understood them alike. 
Social and unsocial might answer if confined to their high- 
est significance ; while consciencious and unconsciencious, 
as describing conduct or feeling dictated by the highest 
conceptions of right or duty, and that which is not, 
would be still more allowable ; for one of these would 
include consciencious selfishness, and the other uncon- 
sciencious, that is, blind, impulsive, inconsiderate be- 
nevolence. At times I may have to use any or all of 
these ; but the first pair will convey my meaning most 
clearly to the generality of minds. 

Selfish and unselfish are however to be enlarged, or 
broadened out so as to include under one or the other 
every kind of human conduct ; for though there is action 



32 THE EVOLUTION 

or inaction that is justifiably selfish, there is scarcely any 
that is entirely indifferent. 

These terms are applied to human feelings as \vell as 
conduct ; and it must first be pointed out which feelings 
are to be called selfish and which unselfish. Moreover, 
some of them are unselfish when compared with those 
below them in grade, while selfish relating to those of 
higher or later development. 

The phrenologists have given us a map of the skull on 
which they locate all the different feelings and faculties, 
and this is well adapted for my purpose. Though I do 
not attach any great value to Phrenology as science, 
yet there is a connection between the base of the brain 
and the animal instincts, and a similar connection of the 
top of the head with the moral and the higher intel- 
lectual capacities — capacities only however, not actual 
dispositions or attainments. These two facts, and the 
additional one that everybody knows something of the 
nomenclature, render the system convenient for illustra- 
tion. 

Beginning now at the base of the head, we find the 
instinctive love of life, the appetite for food and drink, 
the propagating instinct, the propensity to combat and 
destroy, and the desire to accumulate ; all these being 
purely selfish. Conscienciousness, benevolence, mag- 
nanimity, aspiration, at the top-head, are in their nature 
equally unselfish. Then, between these in their location 
on the chart, are a number that are intermediate also in 
character. Here first are the domestic or family feelings, 
the affection for husband or wife, for children, relatives 
and friends. The regard for these is unselfish as com- 
pared with the solitary individual's regard for himself 
alone ; and some thinkers have held the possession of a 
family to be the first thing necessary toward making a 
person unselfish in his whole character. But when we 
compare a woman's regard for her own childre?i with her 



OF MORALITY 33 

consideration for those of another woman, we see, in 
ordinary cases, that the feeHng is still partially selfish. 
It is her own whom she not only loves best, which is 
entirely natural and proper, but to whom she gives the 
preference in every respect, and by whom her judgment 
is warped, and her conduct biased into partiality, con- 
trary to the dictates of pure conscience, whenever any 
antagonism arises between these and others. There is a 
higher feeling, however, which loves justice, and would 
consider the rights of a stranger child as much as those 
of her own ; and compared to this the natural love of off- 
spring is selfish. So with the affection for relatives or 
other friends. The person who has friends and can sac- 
rifice something for them is unselfish in contrast with a 
person who has none, and no willingness to deny self 
any convenience, comfort, or pleasure for the sake of 
another. But when the friend and the stranger have 
conflicting interests the friendly feeling prompts to prefer 
that of the friend, whether his claim be just or unjust. 
Contrasted with that strict regard for the rights and in- 
terests of the stranger which a love of justice demands, 
the friendly feeling is yet a selfish one. We sometimes 
hear a family or set of relatives called clannish, as a term 
of reproach, because all their sympathies are confined to 
themselves ; which shows that most people recognize the 
distinction here made. 

The same thing is true concerning patriotism. The 
love of country is an unselfish impulse beside that of the 
family, and still more so beside the clannishness of rel- 
atives, or the regard for friends. Most Americans who 
have reached middle age have realized the truth of this. 
But there is <\. cosmopolitan feeling, a consideration for the 
well-being of other nations ; a willingness to see a pos- 
sible friend in the foreigner ; a disposition to discover the 
good qualities of all races of men ; an ability to see when 
our own country is in the wrong, and to restrain it at the 



34 THE EVOLUTION 

sacrifice of patriotic pride. This higher sentiment comes 
from love of justice and humanity. In comparison with 
it we must say that the patriotic impulse, like the others 
mentioned, is still selfish to a degree. 

Let no one understand me to say that these intermedi- 
ate feelings are not virtues, or that the lowest and primary 
ones are not. In their natural functions, guided by suffi- 
cient intelligence, and controlled by a wise conscience, 
every one of them is a virtue and entitled to profound 
respect. It is only when they are blind, unguided, unre- 
strained, and discordant that they are anything else. To 
those already named we may add Approbativeness, or 
love of fame, rank and popularity ; Ambition, the desire 
for official place and power ; and Independence or love 
of liberty, without which scarcely any virtue at all is 
possible. All of these are selfish, yet all may be so di- 
rected as to operate wholly toward social well-being ; and 
in the complete human development this becomes their 
only action. In other words they all finally become un- 
selfish. 

But considering them as they now are, and to complete 
the definition of my terms, I must say that all crime, vice, 
and immorality are selfish or the result of selfishness. 
Also the blunders of ignorance or carelessness, in effect 
equal to crimes ; and the degrading benevolence, the 
persecutions and uncharitableness of zealous but unwise 
goodness ; for with a slight exception of unavoidable 
accident, all such undesigned offences come from a state 
of mind which is too lazy, thoughtless, or indifterent to 
learn w^hat it needs to know, or too obstinately conceited 
and self-righteous to be willing to see any fault in it- 
self; both of which feeUngs are of the purely selfish 
class- And to all the rest must be added that ^^/)(2re?z/ 
morality or goodness that is prompted only by a selfish 
motive. 

In the opposite category are included all the higher 



OF MORALITY 35 

virtues in feeling- and action; all that is just, benevolent, 
and generous ; all high aspiration or religiosity ; all gen- 
uine morality ; all true politeness ; all consciencious 
self-criticism ; all faithfulness fo duty and to high ideals ; 
everything that is pure and holy ; last but not least, all 
candid, faithful, earnest thought and sincere willingness 
to learn. In all these there is the one common charac- 
teristic of a regard for the happiness of others. 

It will be observed that I attach importance to that vice 
and that virtue which is connected with the intellect. In- 
deed there is good reason for believing it no less impor- 
tant than that which concerns the feelings. 

There is a doctrine which claims all unselfishness to 
be selfish ; but if true it brings a new meaning into the 
word, and breaks up all present conceptions of the nature 
of the things represented. I pay no attention to it at 
present because for my purpose it is better to use lan- 
guage in its ordinary sense as much as possible. 

I will now ask attention to some thoughts upon the 
origin of moral or unselfish feeling. 

Society of some kind and in some degree has existed 
as long as man has existed — nay, longer, much longer 
than that. Every ant-hill, beehive, and hornets-nest is 
an instance of society. Every school of fishes, every 
flock of birds, every burrow of prairie dogs, every herd 
of wild cattle, is drawn together by the gregarious in- 
stinct or social tendency ; and even if without any or- 
ganization, it still exhibits the first stage of the organiz- 
ing process — the gathering of the materials, out of which 
different parts, having different social functions, are ulti- 
mately, in higher races, to be formed. Every pair that 
mate and bring up their young in the seclusion of a 
single family yet manifest more or less of the gre- 
garious feeling. In fact the only way this feeling can 
be suppressed is by the individual's living- entirely 



36 THE EVOLUTION 

alone, like a spider in its den or a solitary hermit in his 
cave. 

Society then is very old, has been very long in proc- 
ess of evolution, and yet its highest form is far from 
perfection ; though many facts indicate that the more 
advanced part of it will before long step across that 
boundary line which separates the present imperfect 
from the beginning of the perfect stage. 

But let us inquire what is implied by living in society ; 
that is, what desires or considerations must exist in 
order to create and continue the social existence. These 
are of two classes ; first, there is the gregarious instinct 
or love of company, the original motive that impels to 
society, and entirely selfish in its character. In addi- 
tion there are various advantages, both material and 
mental, coming to the individual from the exchange of 
services and products, and the interchange of thought 
and feeling. These are also selfish considerations. On 
the other hand there must be some regard for the rights, 
welfare, or pleasure of the parties exchanged with, and 
this is the unselfish or moral consideration. Without 
this moral consideration trade becomes robbery, through 
deception, fraud, or extortion from the unfortunate ; love 
becomes licentious ; friendship treacherous ; the com- 
munication of ideas untruthful. The lowest clan of 
savages finds it necessary that something of individual 
preference should be given up for the benefit of the rest, 
or the safety of all. When there is a common danger 
each must fight or suffer for and with the others. In 
building the common house each family must be re_ 
spected and allowed its separate apartment. The in- 
dividual gives up some of his wishes for the sake of 
the family or tribe ; the family or tribe in return gives 
him a certain amount of assistance or protection. Each 
and all gain something by the cooperation. 

So with animals. The herd of wild horses combine to 



OF MORALITY 37 

protect their weaker members from the common enemy ; 
wolves go in packs to attack their common prey. Even 
with only two there is still combined effort ; one must 
guard the home while the other hunts their food, each 
doing its share and respecting the rights of the other. 

With both animals and man the unsocial or immoral 
individual — the one who fails to do his duty — is cast out 
or exterminated. Ants and bees expel the one who will 
not work, larger animals kick the offender to death or 
tear him in pieces. INIonkeys cuff and scold their young 
ones as unmercifully as though they were fully human, 
for their childish offences. Men resort to vigilance com- 
mittees, lynch law, exile, imprisonment and execution. 
If the offence is serious the offender is killed ; if light he 
may escape with a more moderate punishment. Animals 
and 'savages have little regard for a due proportion be- 
tween the crime and the retribution ; civilized societies 
attempt by law to make them more nearly equal. 

We can now begin to see that morality or consideration 
for others is the social quality par excellence ; that which 
makes society possible ; that without which it could not 
subsist. With outward circumstances that favor or com- 
pel the development of it a society grows and prospers — 
becomes strong, flourishing and happy. With circum- 
stances that favor or compel immorality — a regard for 
Self only — the society becomes weak, poor, corrupt, and 
unhappy, the victim of discord, anarchy, strife and 
crime, till completely destroyed. All the large civilized 
societies of antiquity weakened and were destroyed for 
want of morality. All of the old societies of the East, 
except one, are now in a dying condition for the same 
reason. Morality is to the social body what vital force 
is to the animal system ; it is its life, its very heart's 
blood. It is that which enables it to resist unwholesome 
influences and continue its existence. The analogy of 
the two things is complete ; whatever is true of one is 



38 THE EVOLUTION 

true of the other. Morality and unselfishness will also 
as we proceed be more plainly seen to be one. 

To understand further the progress of society and the 
evolution of its moral life-power, we must remember that 
the human child, whether savage or civilized, is born 
with a nature wholly selfish, having the instincts that 
prompt it to feed and take care of itself, like any other 
young animal ; but with none that prompt unselfish ac- 
tion, and no power of thought to see the necessity of it. 
All the unselfishness he ever acquires he must gain as his 
intellect unfolds, as his parents, teachers, or books in- 
struct him, and as the moral ability strengthens by the 
unfaltering habit of doing unselfish things under this 
tutelage. He may, it is true, inherit a better capacity 
for acquiring moral strength than his ancestors were 
born with, as he may a similar intellectual capacity ; but 
this is only a superior structure of brain, not an endow- 
ment of actual feeling or thought. And teaching alone, 
that is, teaching of the dogmatic and didactic style has 
no effect. He may be told what is right or wrong be- 
cause God says so, in the usual Sunday-school manner, 
a thousand times a year and it amounts to nothing. He 
might as well be sprinkled three times a day with cold 
water. He needs to understand the reason for every 
moral requirement — why it is right or wrong, through its 
good or bad effects upon human happiness. He needs 
to see these effects all traced out in plain relief, in every 
direction. He needs to see the beauty of holiness in his 
mind's eye, not merely to hear it spoken of. He should 
know something of the nature of society and of his own 
nature, with the effect of feeling and conduct upon the 
soul. And with all the superior excellence of the moral 
standard in his reason as well as memory, he must at the 
same time be encouraged, urged, induced into the habit- 
ual practice of unselfish conduct, to enable him to realize 
its excellence in his own experience, and make the habit 



OF MORALITY 39 

more and more easy as he goes on in his life course. 
Thus he gains a moral character of which by nature he 
had not even a germ, — only a capability. 

Now, the savage man when full grown is still only 
the selfish child in intellect, with the stronger passions 
belonging to a man's body. He must go through the 
same course of intellectual and moral outgrowth the . 
civilized child does, before he is capable of living in 
orderly society. In one lifetime he gets but very little 
of it; and a hundred generations are required to give 
him the moral endowment possessed by the child of 
civilization at maturity. This will help to explain why 
the savage or barbarous man, like the child, forms weak 
social ties ; why his combinations with his fellows are 
small and do not last long ; why he quarrels and fights 
on slight provocation ; why his selfish nature, with lit- 
tle of the unselfish to counteract it, is suspicious, jeal- 
ous, petulant, fickle, treacherous, tyrannical, arrogant, 
insolent, cruel, revengeful, and when highly excited, 
murderous. When undisturbed he is happy, careless, 
friendly and playful. All these characteristics are pres- 
ent in greater or less degree, in the untrained child and 
half-grown boy. We can see them any day, if not in 
our own children certainly in others. And if we will 
try to imagine what kind of society a clan of ten-year-old 
children in a wilderness would form, what troubles and 
difficulties they would have in organizing it, in keeping 
it from falling to pieces, and in protecting it from child- 
ish enemies all around them, we shall get some idea 
of what the savage and barbarous man has had to 
meet and overcome in all parts of the world. We shall 
understand why dissensions and wars have broken up 
and destroyed all he could accomplish, time after time ; 
and what an infinite amount of human suffering it has 
cost to obtain any society such as we would now con- 
sider worth having at all. 



40 THE EVOLUTION 

Bearing in mind then that man at first is wnoiiy sel- 
fish, let us endeavor to trace out some of the steps by 
which during his long career he became less and less 
selfish, and more and more positively unselfish, moral, 
or social. If we follow these successfully up to the 
present time, we shall probably be able to obtain a fair 
.view of what the future society is to be, and what its 
moral requirements. In succeeding chapters attention 
will be given to this ; at present I will only try to show 
how the savage and selfish man has arrived at such a 
moral growth that he can organize and continue the 
existing grade of civilized society. 

Let it be carefully observed at the outset that moral 
capacity, the ability to be moral or unselfish, has two 
causes, one of an intellectual character, the other the 
habit of self-sacrifice. The intellect perceives the neces- 
sity or advantage of moral action, the greater happiness 
to be secured by it, the rightfulness or propriety of it 
for that purpose; while the habit oi giving up minor and 
temporary personal desires or preferences comes at 
length to make such sacrifice easy. The inheritance of 
an improved brain-structure is an aid. Finally the in- 
tellectual element reaches and includes that high con- 
ception of right and duty which requires an apparent 
total forgetfulness of self, in entire devotion to the no- 
blest ideal of unselfish feeling and conduct. How it 
does so will appear more plainly in the next chapter. 
Here, briefly, the statement is that one moral element is 
habit, the other a perception of high ideals. 

The first form of organized human society we know is 
the gens or clan, having for its head a woman, and con- 
sisting of her female descendants with their husbands and 
small children, to a number as large as can find food 
within a convenient distance. When it becomes too 



OF MORALITY 4I 

numerous it separates into two or more clans taking 
different names or totems. 

This clan lives by hunting and fishing, with perhaps 
a little agriculture, as do the lower tribes of American 
Indians. The members find it necessary to live in 
groups to protect themselves against wild animals. 
Here is one class of enemies already existing around 
them ; and for each one to preserve his own life he must 
think of the others, and help them in order to obtain 
their help for himself. Instead of each one's taking to 
his legs when danger appears, two or more must stand 
together against the common enemy. The blind selfish 
impulse to seek safety in flight is controlled and subordi- 
nated to a more far-sighted purpose of killing the enemy, 
by which others are benefitted as well as self. 

Here at the beginning we have a true type of the whole 
process of moral evolution. Every virtue, of whatever 
name, has its genesis in a similar manner, and from the 
influence of the same considerations. In every case 
there is a larger view of the benefits to be ultimately 
gained, and for which present selfish impulses are con- 
trolled and selfish purposes sacrificed. Habit and hered- 
ity finally make the moral feeling strong enough to act 
without thought ; but primarily the intellect must pre- 
sent the inducement. We shall see it illustrated as we 
proceed. 

The members of the gens find it necessary further, to 
do for each other a variety of services. If one can chip 
out a flint hatchet more perfectly than the rest, they will 
do his share of hunting in order that he may work for 
them. It is the same with the one who can make the 
best spears, arrows, baskets, or pottery ; and this is a 
beginning in the division of labor and the development 
of trades. Each one gradually finds out what part of 
the family's work he can do best, and does it while 
others work for him. But this exchange of services or 



42 THE EVOLUTION 

products gives rise 'to friendly feelings. Having found 
profit in one kind of exchange we are inclined to another. 
If there is no unusual cause for repugnance, we feel 
well-disposed toward one with whom we exchange ser- 
vices, goods, or ideas ; and this leads to a liking for his 
company. The feeling grows with the continued habit 
of exchanging with, or doing for, each other, and with 
the importance of that which is given or received Old 
soldiers who have braved the dangers of battle together, 
and helped each other through perilous situations, seem, 
never to forget their friendship. So with sailors, hunters, 
and explorers, who together have met the dangers of the 
sea or the wilderness. 

Friendship, or the disposition to be friendly, which the 
savage man thus develops, must certainly be classed as 
one of the virtues. It sweetens all the intercourse of 
life, thus adding a great deal to human happiness. In 
every way it tends to make society more successful and 
more perfect. A due regard for the welfare of all around 
us will decide that it ought to be cultivated as a moral 
quality, and a stepping stone toward those of higher 
grade. 

But the tie of kinship, the natural tie between parent 
and child, brother and sister — is it not this, some may 
enquire, that makes the clan friendly and well-disposed, 
rather than the exchange of services .? On the contrary, 
the position I shall have to take is that exchange of 
service is what has made the feeling of kinship itself. 
The primitive gens is made up of only one half the 
natural descendants, all the males having married into, 
and been adopted by, other and comparatively stranger 
gentes. And although of the same original blood, and 
similar degrees of kinship, the feeling between them is. 
not the same as between the members of the same gens, 
as is proved by the fact that feuds spring up between 
them, and may make them enemies. Besides, we see 



OF MORALITY 43 

among ourselves that brothers and sisters separated in 
childhood, and growing up in different localities or cir- 
cumstances, have little of the sympathy that unites those 
who have grown up happily together ; and would pro- 
bably feel none a^ all but for the idea always impressed 
upon them that they must — that it is natural they should. 
Even when separated after maturity, if they have no 
communication — no exchange of services, ideas, or feel- 
ings — for years, the family feeling dies out to a great 
degree, they become virtually strangers ; only with the 
same vague impression on their minds that some natural 
reason exists for their being friends. In the animal 
world the mother's love for offspring disappears as soon 
as the young are able to take care of themselves. Al- 
though humanity has always had this idea of something 
sacred about kinship, the only reason that appears for 
it is the fact that everywhere society has begun with 
some kind of family — some group having the same 
ancestors. Their friendliness has been ascribed to blood, 
when in reality it is due to the cooperation and mutual 
service compelled by circumstances. 

Out of the primitive barter, and its resulting friendli- 
ness, has come the sentiment of gratitude. From per- 
ceiving the necessity of giving one thing or service for 
another, and expecting it, it is an easy step for one to 
perceive the propriety of so doing, and to feel conscious 
that it ought to be the rule — that if another has done 
more for him than was previously paid for he ought to 
do something more in return. This is the beginning of 
both gratitude and justice. 

But some may question if the savage man is capable 
of feeling gratitude. I reply without hesitation that he 
is. I doubt if there is any one so low or unprogressed 
that he cannot intellectually perceive that a favor done 
him gives the doer a right to expect an equal favor from 
him, and feel disposed to make the return. The wildest 



44 THE EVOLUTION 

of the American Indians have proved this many a time, 
and so have others in all stages of savagery and barbar- 
ism. To understand that such feeling does not imply 
civilization or high development, we need only to look at 
half-civilized Christian Europe in the Middle Ages, and 
down to the seventeenth century. A feeling of religious 
gratitude made men intensely pious, but did not prevent 
their being comparatively unsympathetic ; reckless, and 
immoral in their treatment of each other ; utterly cruel to 
heretics and victims of delusion ; and fiendish toward 
the heathens of Africa and America. If we look for any- 
thing more inhuman among savages we shall fail to find 
it ; yet gratitude in some degree was one of the common- 
est feelings they possessed. . - 

The family or clan however, though disposed to be 
friendly, will unavoidably have its quarrels. As it has 
already learned the advantage of living together, the group 
must be preserved, and this necessitates having some 
kind of arbitration to settle the difficulties. To submit to 
it requires that each contestant give up something of his 
selfish preference, and so the spirit of compromise begins 
to be learned. The old man, woman, or council that 
judges the case must likewise learn a moral lesson ; for 
to- make a decision acceptable and permanent there must 
be some elements of justice in it; and this the judge or 
arbitrator must not only perceive, but must put aside any 
personal preference for a contestant that stands in the 
way of a just decision. Thus, in another way, the idea 
of justice or impartiality gets a foothold in the general 
mind of the primitive society. 

When the increase of population in the related groups 
compels them to crowd upon the domain of some other 
tribe, or another tribe upon theirs, then there must be a 
union of the clans, their little feuds must be adjusted or 
suppressed, and a war-chief or leader agreed upon, in 
spite of conflicting ambitions and claims. If they sue- 



OF MORALITY 45 

ceed in inducing" or compelling- the various antagonists 
to sacrifice their personal aspirations or revenges they 
can probably hold their ground or conquer a new one. 
Possibly they accomplish their purposes nearly as well 
as trades unions, political rings, or Irish combinations do 
theh-s in our own times. Sometimes they unite and 
maintain their union, sometimes they fail. If they live 
in a location where subsistence is difficult to obtain, 
where their wits have been sharpened in the effort to gel 
it, where they have been compelled to make sacrifices 
habitually, and help each other in all ways in order to 
live at all, then the probability is that they will be able 
to maintain their union and become conquerors. If their 
home is a locality where game and fish are abundant and 
agriculture easy, where less sacrifice of selfishness is re- 
quired, then the selfish impulses are likely to be too 
strong for successful union, and they become the prey of 
the party having the strongest moral feeling, that is, the 
most /aifh/uhicss to each other. Subordination and fidel- 
ity in this case are moral, insubordination the worst 
immorality. 

What has been stated regarding the gens or clan is 
substantially true in regard to the patriarchal family, of 
nomadic or roving tribes in the barbaric stage. The 
superior position which the father holds over his own 
family is by a natural tendency extended over those of 
his children and grand-children till his death, or till the 
the group becomes too large. The patriarch becomes 
teacher, leader, governor and judge. Deference and 
subordination to him is by the intellect found necessary 
or most advisable in carrying out the family's mode ot 
life ; and so filial piety comes to be demanded, encour- 
aged, and praised as the prime virtue. Whatever selfish- 
ness is opposed to the patriarch's authority has to be 
sacrificed, as an habitual practice ; while the influences 
favoring the filial sentiment gradually develop // into 



46 THE EVOLUTION 

strength. And the mild despotism of the patriarch is so 
well adapted to his people and their life that after his 
death he often becomes an object of worship. 

Later on in the process of social evolution comes the 
organization of clans or families into a tribe, or of tribes 
into a confederacy or government ; which will be more 
or less republican if the tribes retain their original liberty, 
more or less despotic if continual war has kept them 
under control of chiefs. Progress in agriculture, and the 
partial development of trades favor the building of a city, 
which shall be the central home of the confederacy or 
tribe. Now comes into existence the new virtue oi patri- 
otism. Without this the city and the permanent location 
cannot be maintained against enemies, always ready to' 
conquer and rob if possible. The necessity for public 
spirit is readily perceived, and causes popular opinion to 
require it. To satisfy public sentiment, and secure his 
own self-respect, for he has by this time become con- 
scious of the nobility of unselfish action, the individual 
gives up some of his personal rights, property and com- 
fort, and risks his life to defend the common home of his 
people. Habit, inheritance, and the ideal of duty held up 
to the young, tend to strengthen the sentiment in suc- 
ceeding generations. The Latin tribes seem to have pos- 
sessed more of this virtue than any other of the ancients 
known to us, and their superior morality in this respect 
did much to give Rome the dominion of the world. 

In more modern times, when the settled monarchies 
of Europe came to take place of the anarchy caused by 
the perpetual w^ars and robberies of feudal chiefs and 
rival cities, another virtue springs up, that of loyalty to 
the king, and to his family or dynasty. The king now 
represents peace, order, safety, law, prosperity and civ- 
ilization. Loyalty to him is demanded by the intellect, 
which sees the necessity of it to preserve the new and 
better state of things. Necessity produces it as necessity 



OF MORALITY 4/ 

produced pat/iotism. In addition to his intellect, all the 
better feelinijs the man has already acquired prompt him 
to make temporary sacrifices, and risk his life for his 
king. The loyalty of the Scotch people to the Stuarts two 
hundred and fifty years ago is still sung by their descend- 
ants, and still awakens admiration for "all the noble 
martyrs who died for loyaltie. " 

King and country — loyalty and patriotism- — sometimes 
came to be associated together ; and thus a double in- 
ducement or pressure was brought upon a man to cause 
a sacrifice of selfish interests for his fatherland. Looking 
over the history of the race, it is easy to see where na- 
tions have conquered and lived by virtue of their patriot- 
ism, or loyalty, or both, while others for lack of such 
qualities have succumbed to the stronger and died. The 
fittest have survived in the general struggle, because for 
purposes of society it is the moral quality that gives fit- 
ness and strength. 

In the near future is to arise that still higher or more 
unselfish sentiment of Cosmopolitanism already referred 
to, which takes the world for its country, and has been 
well called *'the patriotism of humanity." It will not 
antagonize the welfare of one's native country, ours for 
instance, because the more a nation has of it the bettei 
it will be loved by all other countries, the more secure 
its peace, prosperity and honor; as surely so as that 
an unselfish person is more sure of being loved, hon- 
ored, trusted, blessed, than a greedy, grasping, selfish 
one. Contrast the present hatred of all the Eastern 
world, Africa, India, China, Japan, toward England and 
France, with their feeling toward America, and one can 
easily see w^iat it means. Not that %ve need be self- 
righteous. In our old brutal slavery days we murdered 
the Indian tribes, and we robbed Mexico. Yet within 
the next few years the new, regenerated America will 
be likely to make Mexico and all the Central and South 



48 THE EVOLUTION 

American states our firm friends. And the feeling that 
aspires to do this is CosmopoHtanism.* 



We will now go back to the starting-point, and see 
what other influences are acting upon man to develop 
unselfish feelinsf. That which we have been considerins" 
is the action of the social body — the gens, family, tribe, 
or nation — upon the individual. Besides this there is 
Jhejeffect wrought by religion. Religion, so far as sci- 
entists have agreed to any definition of it, is the belief in 
spiritual beings and action in reference to such beings. 
Primarily it is regard for the spirit of some ancestor or 
chief; and the only sacrifice it requires is that of a few 
articles of personal property put in his grave, and some 
little attention in the way of food and drink afterward. 
As the chief or patriarch becomes a more important 
personage his horse, dog, arms, and everything needed 
for his life in the spirit world is given up by his relatives. 
These being the most valuable things a barbarian has, we 
may suppose it requires some little conquest of selfish 
interest at first to relinquish them. In the case of every 
private man there is somewhat of the same surrender 
of property, and supply of food for a considerable time. 
Even the man's hut is with some tribes given up to his 
ghost, and scarcely anything of his property is left to 
be inherited. In other cases when chiefs die women 
and slaves are put to death to bear them company ; but 
as woman is a slave, and slaves are of little greater 
value than animals, the loss is of the same kind mainly, 
not a loss to the affections. It is only when a human 

*Tlie above was -written previous to tlie last presidential election canvass, 
during which a bill for the exclusion of the Chinese from this country was with 
brutal haste pushed through a Democratic House of Representatives, and allowed 
to become law by the cowardice of a Republican Senate, a law which however 
right in its design to exclude Chinese coolies, was passed in such an insolent 
manner as to almost certainly turn the good wiU of China into hatred. And the 
votes for which this brutality was exhibited, and this cowardice, were those of the 
very lowest class of the voting population. 



OF MORALifY 49 

victim from the ruling race is demanded to appease the 
anger of some mighty god that the loss is severely felt. 
Then the victim is given up as a necessity, with the 
same motive and purpose with which thousands of 
American families and neighborhoods gave up a son, 
brother, or neighbor to the necessities of war twenty-five 
years ago. The common good, the safety of the nation 
or tribe, seems to require that some individual lose 
everything. A greater danger, or more angry deity 
might call for the lives of a score or a hecatomb instead 
of one. 

It will be very natural here for some one to inquire, 
"Can such savage religion as this have anything to do 
with morality.? Is any sense of justice, mercy, or good 
will cultivated by such sacrifices.?" No, nothing of jus- 
tice, mercy, or kindness, but of duty and generosity. Is 
any moral feeling involved in the sacrifices demanded 
by war? No mercy, no justice, no benevolence, but the 
generosity or unselfishness of putting aside our individ- 
ual good for the good of the whole. Or, it might be 
called an unselfish endurance. I can see no difference 
in the situations, nor in the feelings called out by the 
action. To the barbarian his religion is a most real 
thing. He never loses faith in the existence of his deity ; 
and he has no better way of accounting for misfortune 
than to suppose his god sends it, in punishment for 
his lack of duty, in not making previous sacrifices for 
the god's benefit or pleasure. The ignorant Christian 
religionist of to-day has the same view and the same 
feeling. What is claimed is that the effort made in rec- 
onciling ones-self to the sacrifice is a moral effort ; that 
every such effort, when successful, renders a succeeding 
effort less difficult, till the giving up of selfish impulses 
may become habitual and easy. Then by heredity the 
following generation is endowed with a brain better 
adapted to an unselfish course of life. Through these 



50 THE EVOLUTION 

moral efforts the individual comes more into harmony 
with his deity and his fellows, is conscious of their 
sympathy and good will, and further, is sensible of 
having- reached a higher grade of development, where 
moral action of any kind is easier to him than before. 
This is moral growth — growth toward social harmony 
and fitness for society. The spiritual view of things 
is used as the inducement or pressure, instead of the 
material, but the result is the same. 

To make the process more familiar let us observe what 
takes place among ourselves, under Christian religion of 
the highest form. Here the church, cathedral, or chapel 
is built, furnished and supported by the contributions of 
the sect; and it often involves a painful subjugation of 
the love of property. In some cases it takes from the 
poorest class of our population a large proportion of their 
spare earnings. And I have seen the tears come into a 
poor man's eyes, when called upon to pay five dollars 
toward the support of a little Protestant church in a 
country village. The money sacrifice is not often as 
great as this, but it is of the same kind ; and the moral 
power gained by the habit of making it is the power of 
doing one's duty, not only to the church, but to the 
state and to his neighbor. I am far from saying, how- 
ever, that there is any morality in making large de- 
mands for this kind of sacrifice. 

There are many things in the line of self-denial that 
religion has required or encouraged, most of them fav- 
oring morality, no doubt, but many others of which it 
can only be said that if they develop morality the mor- 
ality itself is of a merely negative kind, and of little 
value. Of this latter sort is the whole class of practices 
known as asceticism — all attempts to escape the influ- 
ence of the selfish instincts by oppressing and mortify- 
ing the body ; or by hiding away from temptation in 
deserts, caves, and monasteries. There is moral effort 



OF MORALITY 5 1 

in asceticism ; probably all the individual is capable of 
making ; but taken together this class of actions have 
the appearance of being cowardly, of being efforts to 
evade the conflict with selfishness and evil, or to fight a 
part of the battle and escape the rest. Yet some of those 
Avho have taken the ascetic method have been heroes. 
It was, and still is, really a misdirected struggle. It is 
like a man's killing his unruly horse because he doesn't 
know how to conquer and train him to make him use- 
ful. Asceticism tries, by abusing the body, or depriving 
the natural impulses of their natural gratification, to 
starve them to death, and thus avoid all further trouble 
of fighting them. It is a policy of ignorance, and so 
far as successful creates only negative goodness by re- 
moving temptation, through partial destruction of the 
lower half of man's nature. It adds but little positive 
strength to his higher part. 

Religion is still ascetic to some extent, and must con- 
tinue to be so as long as the natural man is looked upon 
as necessarily antagonistic to the spiritual. To the ordi- 
nary churchman his selfish animal nature is still like the 
ignorant man's unruly horse ; as yet he has scarcely 
conceived the possibility of its acting the part of the 
well-trained, well-used animal, giving loyal and willing 
service in return for gentle treatment and loving care. 

The best type of the moral conflict is the physical war- 
fare of the soldier, and his gain of courage by succes- 
sive victories. The successful fight gives him additional 
strength and confidence for the next, and this makes the 
superiority of the veteran. Successive defeats are said 
to rfemoralize him, that is to lessen or take away his 
soldierly virtues of courage and determination. Moral 
strength and courage are gained or lost in precisely the 
same manner ; not by shunning the world and its temp- 
tations, but by meeting and manfully overcoming them. 
In analogy with the soldier's warfare too, there must be 



52 THE EVOLUTION 

prudence, watchfulness, tact, strategy, and combinations 
of forces, along- with determination and confidence, in 
order to secure victory. The rashness of over-confi- 
dence, the belittling of the enemy, and the attempt to do 
a strong man's work with a child's power, will defeat, de- 
moralize, and degrade. As an illustration, see how diffi- 
cult it is for a drunkard to keep his pledge of abstinence 
after he has broken it once. Each succeeding time he 
gives way easier and sooner, till at last all hope, courage 
and strength are gone. 

The ceremonials and liturgies of religion have a cer- 
tain use in keeping up a slight habitual religious feeling, 
but do not add to the moral strength. Such efforts may 
appeal to the moral power already possessed, and per- 
haps call it all out if necessary ; but as no new conflict 
is required, there is no exercise of moral force beyond 
what is habitual. It is like giving the muscular system 
a certain amount of moderate exercise at regular intervals 
to keep, it in its usual condition — nothing more. 

There is, however, in the later forms of Protestantism 
a method of rousing the whole moral power to fight a 
new battle with certain forms of sins and selfishness. I 
refer to what goes on in revivals. In these religion 
brings into use all its influence, and performs its greatest 
work toward the moralization of humanity. It acts 
upon the individual to draw out whatever good impulses 
he may possess, in struggling for a purpose acknowl- 
edged by him to be the highest he knows. It sets before 
his intellect the strongest inducement it can offer, in the 
promise of future happiness if he succeeds, and the 
strongest impulsion also in the threat of eternal misery 
if he fails. It thus seeks to inspire the greatest moral 
effort he can make. In some cases this is so successful 
that the more prominent forms of selfishness or sin the 
person is conscious of are conquered ; and he then takes 
the largest step toward a moralized life that religion can 



OF MORALITY 53 

aid him to take. From this highest result there are all 
degrees of improvement down to that which can hardly 
be observed, and is of no permanence. The effort may 
result in failure as often as in success ; for the revivalist 
leader calls upon every one to make it, the feeble as 
well as the strong, those who by youth, thoughtlessness 
and inexperience, or poor hereditary endowment are 
totally incapable, as well as those who by previous cul- 
ture have arrived at sufficient moral growth to balance 
their selfish tendencies. Spite of errors in the manage- 
ment, however, it is certain that in many cases the 
effort stimulated by revivals accomplishes a new and 
decided advance in the soul's upward progress. 

Here I shall have to make some statements dogmati- 
cally, asking attention to them nevertheless, as they 
will be made or implied a number of times hereafter; 
but leaving the reader to decide what amount of credit 
they ought to receive. 

When, under favorable conditions and wise direction, 
the moral development goes on in a natural way^ — when 
each victory over self gives increased strength and cour- 
age for another conflict — the moral power gets control 
of one after another of the selfish impulses, habits and 
propensities, till at last it comes to a trial with the 
strongest one of all, the easily-besetting sin, the in- 
corrigible habit, the ruling passion of the natural man, 
which Swedenborg well calls his "life." If defeated now 
the moral force retires, perhaps temporarily, perhaps for 
a long, sad rest and recuperation, perhaps so far that it 
loses nearly all and must go again through its minor 
conflicts. But if successful, then the final, decisive vic- 
tory is won ; the stronghold of the whole selfish nature 
is subdued ; there remain only short and easy battles 
with the remnants of the hostile force ; and then sets in 
a final and lasting peace, a peace that can never again 



54 THE EVOLUTION 

be seriously disturbed, a holy calm, a solemn but joyful 
rest, a never-ceasing satisfaction in the achievement of 
the grandest work possible to a human life ; and from 
the assurance, felt to be perfect beyond all possibility of 
doubt or suspicion, that the soul is saved, that no serious 
sin or immorality can ever again touch it for harm, 
that its happiness is secure for all its future conscious 
existence. 

Now, does any form of religion ever effect this result? 
To some the question may seem a strange one. But in 
reality does the Christian ever get permanently where he 
can never doubi his salvation.? While conversion is new 
he may have no doubts ; and some persons believe in 
the possible attainment of what they call *' perfection," 
through the constant aid of an outside spiritual influ- 
ence. Even if these few be confident I am free to say 
they cannot be sure, for this to me very good reason, 
that they do not know all that is required of them in 
order to be fully freed from sin. I venture to say to 
them that they still adhere to forms of selfishness of 
which they are unconscious, and some, quite possibly, 
that it will take a harder struggle to c^ist out than they 
have ever yet made; but which struggle they must 
sometime pass through, before they: become fit for a 
perfect society, either on earth or in the skies. No one 
can know positively that he has reached that point 
which is the turning point in his whole career, till in 
obedience to duty he has sacrificed that which is dearer 
to him than all else except continued existence. Nor 
even then can he be sure he does not mistake his feel- 
ings till he has learned the full extent of the final de- 
mand to be made upon him, a demand such as the 
church has not put forth in modern times if ever. There- 
fore I repeat that no Christian has attained that degree of 
moral perfection, that stage of self-conquest which en- 
sures his everlasting safety, which fits him for an angelic 



OF MORALITY 55 

society, and enables him to inaugurate n Kingdom of 
God on earth. Having it he would already have done 
this very thing. The fact that neither the regenerate nor 
the unregenerate, so called, — neither the religious nor 
the unreligious — have ever been able to achieve any 
high state of happiness, anything comparable to the ideal 
Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, is sufficient proof that the 
point in view has never been gained. 

That it may be apprehended more clearly, and com- 
prehended more fully, what this point is, what the state 
of mind consequent on reaching it, and the character of 
a society resulting from the union of persons in that 
state, some aspect of the whole compound thing will be 
explained and illustrated as each different subject is taken 
up in the chapters to follow. 




*«-^®r8^F->"*' 



CHAPTER III. 

THE EVOLUTION OF MORALITY 

Continued. 



IT was described in the previous chapter how^ mutual 
service generated friendship. Kindness has the 
same origin. It is toward those with whom we have 
had some pleasant association, or in whom we discover 
some good or pleasant quality, mental or physical — 
something capable of giving us pleasure or service — that 
primarily we are disposed to have good will. It is 
toward such persons the natural man, the barbarian, or 
the child, feels disposed to be kind, and willing to do 
something that will confer pleasure or benefit. It is the 
opposite class, the repulsive ones, those from whom we 
can expect nothing of pleasure or advantage, that nat- 
urally we consider objects of malevolence, dislike, or at 
least indifference. Unconsciously the mind reasons that 
in one case kindness will attract what we desire, or aid 
us to obtain it ; in the other case that unkindness will 
repel what we dislike or fear. 

It is toward persons of the first class that the feeling of 
sympathy first arises ; we feel regret at their pain, and 
pleasure in their happiness. The child shows sympathy 
wHh its mother, and a few others who care tor it, 



THE EVOLUTION OF MORALITY 5/ 

long before it manifests any for those outside the family. 
Indeed some persons grow up before they get beyond 
this primary stage. So a merchant, if he hears of a flood, 
iire, or other misfortune outside his own locality, and 
remembers that some of the sufferers are his customers, 
his sympathies are aroused more strongly than if they be 
entire strangers. So likewise in the street-car politeness, 
about which we see frequent jokes in the newspapers. 
A man may offer his seat to a woman of his own race, 
color, or condition, from sympathy, not gallantry, when 
he would not to one of a different race or class ; because 
the first he is familiar with, by exchange of courtesies 
and ideas, if not property, every day ; whereas with the 
stranger class he does nothing or very little of this kind. 
There is something of friendship mixed with kindness in 
many of these cases, but the noticeable point is that 
there is a selfishness connected with the kindly feeling; 
that it manifests only toward those from whom we are in 
the habit of receiving something for our own benefit or 
pleasure, that is, trade, care, friendship or courtesy. But 
now, as acquaintance widens, as trade becomes extend- 
ed, as rapid and easy travel enables us to see more of 
the world ; and more especially as knowledge makes us 
familiar with the modes of life and character of foreign 
peoples ; in short, as we get acquainted to some extent 
with all humanity, the kindly feeling takes in other fami- 
lies, communities, and classes than those we knew at 
first. Intellectually we come to perceive that all these 
are human, like those we know familiarly ; all are alike 
capable of suffering or enjoyment; and though we have 
no exchange with them except as an imagined possibility, 
sympathy gradually and unconsciously extends till it 
becomes an unselfish quality, feeling for the welfare of 
those from whom we receive nothing, as well as for those 
who give to and take from us, occasionally or all the 
time. 



58 THE EVOLUTION 

In this manner, as I conceive, has arisen a sympathy, 
a kindness, a benevolence which, unlike its first mani- 
festations, is at last wholly unselfish in purpose; giving- 
to those who Cjan make no return ; doing service to those 
who will not respond even with thanks ; laboring for the 
child, the stranger, the poor, the insane, idiotic or crimi- 
nal, the abused horse, dog or wild animal, and the 
unborn generations of the future. There is an additional 
cause however, for these higher exhibitions of the feeling, 
to be explained farther on. 

This is one of the highest of the unselfish feelings ; a 
second one is the love of justice. Now, the sense of 
justice is one of the very first of the moral sentiments to 
be evolved. Scarcely anything can be done, even in the 
simplest kinds of cooperation without suggesting the 
idea of it, and making a demand for it in practice. Jus- 
tice means equality, except when applied to vindictive- 
ness ; and even here it implies something like an equality 
of suffering — a punishment proportional to the offense 
committed, or a satisfaction to the injured person in 
taking his revenge, as a compensation for the wrong 
suffered. In all other cases the idea is without question 
that of equality. An equality of rights in all that belongs 
to the family or clan, an equal share in the game caught 
or killed by united effort, an equal claim to be protected 
by the chief, patriarch or governor, — these are ideas so 
simple hardly any savage brain could fail to evolve 
them. A personal claim to his weapons, tools, or what- 
ever he can make for himself, or conquer from his 
enemy by his own efforts, is a like simple conception no 
one can be obtuse enough to deny. The same reasoning 
that justifies his title to the cattle he has raised gives him 
a claim to own the children he has fed and cared for, or 
the wife he has bought from her parents, or stolen from 
a stranger tribe. When he comes to be an agriculturist 
the land occupied by the gens is assumed to belong to 



OF MORALITY 59 

every man equally, that is, the use of it ; while no one 
supposes he can acquire a title to it absolutely. The 
right of the next generation to use it is considered just as 
good as that of the present, — a conception altogether too 
just for our age of monopoly and free-appropriation to 
ever think of seriously. Though the stranger is looked 
upon as an enemy and a lawful prey, there is no thought 
of robbing each other within the clan ; therefore the till- 
able ground is staked off to each family in proportion to 
its number, and that outside is a pasturage in common. 
The mir or village commune in Russia, not yet broken 
up, still represents ' the primitive equality in the use of 
land. 

Thus we can see that justice enters into the daily life 
of the savage and barbarian as truly as into ours. His 
right to property, to his family, to protection, and to a 
share in the common soil are all based upon it. Without 
it he could not get along at all. The love of it grows with 
the habit of doing it, and from the conception of it being 
held before the mind as the beneficial, the fit, proper, 
desirable and every way superior thing to be realized in 
practice ; including as not least of all, the necessity of it 
in-order to a peaceful and harmonious way of living. Of 
these two elements in the love of justice the latter — the 
conception of its value — is given by the intellect, and is 
strong in proportion as the reasoning faculty is strong 
and clear ; the former, depending on habit, is strong in 
proportion as the habit of sacrificing selfishness to jus- 
tice is unvarying and long continued. 

In all grades of society there is a call for justice ; in all 
conditions of the race, in all the manifold relations cre- 
ated by domestic, industrial, and political life there is 
more or less demand for its manifestation. More than 
any other moral quality it is the condition of happiness 
in society. 

A barbarian community may possess a good share of 



60 THE EVOLUTION 

the sentiment in proportion to what is demanded for a 
simple form of social life ; or a civilized state may have 
too little of it, and find itself in constant turmoil for the 
lack. The poor, the uneducated, the unpolished may 
have it strong in regard to certain matters ; the pampered 
child of wealth, luxury and superficial culture may have 
so little that only his ability to buy service and toleration 
with money renders him endurable. 

Generosity and magnanimity, two more of the higher 
virtues, depend on riches ; the first on riches in goods, 
the second on wealth of character — mental or spiritual 
riches. We know how easy it is to be generous with 
superfluous wealth, or even without when we can easily 
acquire more. But if we work hard and suffer much in 
getting it, we hold to it closely ; parting with it only for 
its full value. If we have enough but no means for get- 
ting more it is the same. So if we have much or can 
readily obtain it we can give much, if little we give but 
little, even by making a great sacrifice of the acquisitive 
feeling. Jesus said the poor widow with her two mites 
had given more than all before her, because, being all 
that she had, the giving implied a greater sacrifice. Un- 
usual conditions and motives may induce a man to share 
his last crust or last penny with a friend, or even give 
him the whole of both ; but if he had a great deal more 
he would with the same effort give a great deal more. 
So we can understand that in barbarian societies, al- 
ways poor, though in individual cases there m.ay be 
much actual sacrifice, there will be no great gifts, nor 
institutions of charity. These come with peace, indus- 
try, and wealth, though the moral effort may be no 
greater. The less we have the harder it is to give. 

With charity of feeling or magnanimity there must 
likewise be wealth, a wealth of moral character or 
goodness. The person who is struggling with all his 
might against the evils and falsities of his lower nature, 



OF MORALITY 6l 

and just beg-inning to rise in the moral world, is like the 
one who is working hard for a poor living. He cannot 
afford to tolerate any lack of virtue in his neighbors, or 
any influence from them that is going to make his own 
struggle more difficult. He can neither allow himself 
to have pity for faults, or toleration for errors, or slight 
to his dignity or reputation. But when he becomes 
stronger in goodness, wiser in intellect, higher in posi- 
tion, and better in reputation he becomes more generous 
in feeling. He is like the man rich in physical things, 
who can go about in his old clothes, fearing no disre- 
spect, having no need to keep up appearances, able to 
give generously. He is now conscious of being so 
strong morally that it will not hurt his virtue, or his 
reputation, to speak kindly to the degraded sinner or 
tramp, and get acquainted with him to help him reform ; 
he is less bigoted toward what he formerly considered 
heresy ; more disposed to be generous to his enemies, 
and to meet them half way in steps to a reconciliation. 
He can do all these things because he is strong enough 
spiritually not to be in danger from the temptation or 
the heresy ; and as soon as he is so all considerations 
unite in prompting him to generosity of action. 

This is one of the latest developed of the virtues, one 
of the highest, most useful, most happifying of them all. 

Two other moral qualities, equally high, and like the 
last two, late in development, are modesty and humility. 
Both are simply the product of advanced growth. Pre- 
sumption and self-righteousness are the unfailing indi- 
cations of a mere beginning in the intellectual and the 
moral life. The first steps in an upward direction bring 
such a change of experience, the contrast is so decided, 
so fresh and striking that, as with every first experience, 
the degree or amount of change is overestimated ; the 
more so as the person affected can have no conception 
of the larger growth before him, to which he is still a 



62 THE EVOLUTION 

stranger. With progress comes a diminution of conceit 
in both forms ; modesty and humility as steadily tak- 
ing their place. And this process will continue till the 
person has achieved the complete conquest of all ob- 
stinacy, bigotry, arrogance, and every kind of pride. 

Truthfulness I class among the more elevated virtues ; 
for though it is found necessary to some extent every- 
where and always, so that ''Honor among thieves," has 
become a proverb, yet it never reaches its completeness 
except among a very few of the best of the race, those 
only whose ability to think deeply and far enables them 
to see the superiority of it to deception, for all justifiable 
purposes, and in all conditions or circumstances, save 
those in which any kind of absolute morality becomes 
unjust to self, and deception is the only means of de- 
fence. Ignorance often makes deception appear neces- 
sary, when better knowledge, greater moral courage, or 
more faith in human nature would prove truthfulness to 
be feasible, and far superior in its results. It grows with 
+he growth of intelligence, and thoughtfulness is its twin 
relative. 

Self -Control, another high virtue, is gained, as we all 
know, through thoughtfulness, and the habitual training 
of our impulses to follow the direction, or wait the com- 
mand, of the cool, honest judgment. Some minor qual- 
ities might be spoken of; but so far as it is necessary to 
consider their genesis I prefer to do so incidentally on 
future occasions. But there is one other of the higher 
sentiments, one whose origin is much disputed, and 
something should be said to decide concerning it if possi- 
ble. What I refer to is the consciousness of duty ; the 
feeling that we ought to do or not do, feel or not feel, 
think or not think ; the sense of right, so called ; the con- 
scientious impulse; the conscious acknowledgment that 
right is superior to wrong. 

One school of moralists teach that it comes only from 



OF MORALITY 63 

God and revelation ; another that it is an innate or in- 
herent feehng, a moral instinct, similar to those intellect- 
ual instincts called intuitions, by which we know a 
self-evident truth as soon as uttered. No one, so far as I 
know, has tried to account for it as the result of natural 
causes only, though all true scientists must believe a nat- 
ural explanation to be possible. 

Now, it is the natural effect of the superstition remain- 
ing in every mind, that all unthinking persons prefer to 
believe some theory that has mystery in it. An explana- 
tion that is too profound or too obscure to be readily 
apprehended, will get credit with them much sooner than 
one that is simple, natural, and easily understood. Every 
scientific explanation has to contend with this supersti- 
tious preference for the incomprehensible. Yet all general- 
ized truth is really simple, and so is a natural explanation 
of duty. 

Man's object in all he does is happiness. If any one 
wishes to contradict this he will say that sometimes 
man acts because he admires the inherent nobleness of a 
good action ; because he perceives its fitness and pro- 
priety to a noble character ; because of respect for the 
nobler part of himself; because it is godlike, and he 
wishes to be in some degree godlike too. 

To put this all into different language, it means that 
man, through his intellect, has come to form a high 
ideal or standard, a godlike ideal if you choose — what 
seems to him a perfect standard of human action. Be- 
cause of its perfection he admires it. All his experience, 
as well as all the teaching of the past, has convinced 
him that the perfect thing is connected with more happi- 
ness than the imperfect. No matter how small or unim- 
portant the action, he never doubts that the perfect way 
of doing it gives the best results ; and so whatever he 
knows how to do well, unless contrary motives interfere, 
he tries to do well, and to have others do well. In mat- 



64 THE EVOLUTION 

ters of industry, trade, and other affairs of everyday life 
he may be so anxious to realize his ideal that he will 
suffer loss rather than accept of poor performance ; he 
will throw away the badly made article, or go through a 
long and tedious process the second time. He feels that 
it ought to be done right, and is disgusted or indignant 
with the wrong. His consciousness of ought or duty 
in the small affair is precisely the same feeling as his 
consciousness of ought or duty in regard to moral action. 
In both cases alike the performance ought to be up to 
the standard ; it is botchwork, it is a fraud, it is disgust- 
ing, or hateful, or discouraging, in short, it is wrong if it 
is not. Every good mechanic can understand how an 
artist, or a genuine moralist, feels over good or bad, right 
or wrong performance in his particular line of action. 
This idea will not be acceptable to all; it may seem 
degrading to morality ; it may touch the feeling of 
pride, like the question of human ancestry ; but if no 
difference can be discerned in the feeling of duty as ap- 
plied in the cases mentioned, then let us honestly admit 
that it is the same. 

But though there is no difference in the nature of the 
feeling, there is an immense difference in the importance 
of the things compared. To the conscientious person 
moral right is right above everything else. It has a pre- 
eminence over all other considerations because of its 
importance ; because of the vast amount of happiness 
or misery that may result from right or wrong proced- 
ure ; because the happiness of one individual even is 
immensely superior in importance to matters of indus- 
try, art or business. This is the real point of difference, 
and accounts for the superior reverence given to moral 
right, and the intense hatred of moral wrong. 

To illustrate. One persons life may depend upon an- 
other person's benevolence, or that of half a dozen chil- 
dren upon his charity. We remember the gifts of 



OP MORALITY 65 

money, goods, and credit poured out upon the people 
of Chicago a few years ago, the help given to the yel- 
low-fever-stricken people of Tennesee, and to the suffer- 
ers from forest fires in Michigan. Such results impress 
us strongly with the beauty and glory of benevolence. 
A single measure of political justice would make the 
whole population of Ireland rejoice, and twice as many 
more in other parts of the world. Patriotism may save 
the life, liberties, and future welfare of a great nation for 
unknown generations, as in our own countr/ twenty-odd 
years ago. Truth and fidelity are vitally important in all 
close associations and partnerships. Financial dishon- 
esty may keep the people of a city or state poor for 
many years, or honesty give it credit and prosperity. 
Even a few words at the right or wrong time or place 
will cause a person to feel happy or miserable for a 
whole day. Contrasted with such moral results as these, 
the effects of good or bad workmanship, of true or false 
art in ordinary subjects, are of little account. Human 
welfare is so much more affected by moral or immoral 
conduct, that moral right or wrong comes to be looked 
upon as entirely different in essential character, when 
the real difference is only in degree of importance. 

If now we analyze the moral standard, we shall find 
that everything required by it aids human happiness 
through unselfish conduct ; and this is what makes it 
admirable. Nothing but its happifying influence on 
humanity could make the godlike character godlike ; noth- 
ing else could make it noble ; nothing else render it 
worthy of a God ; nothing else enable the aspirant to re- 
spect himself for imitating it ; nothing else make it per- 
fect. This is the original but now unconscious reason 
for loving the perfect, and aspiring to imitate or realize it 
in thought, feeling, and action. 

All the higher moral sentiments have now been briefly 



66 THE EVOLUTION 

noticed, and a natural origin for them traced out. But 
before summing up the results, and advancing to new 
ground, let me say a word of justice for another kind of 
influence acting upon man to fit him for a more perfect 
society. It is the effect of opinion and custom not em- 
bodied in law, or in religion ; but coming, in some de- 
gree, from every individual to every other, and bearing 
upon almost everything that is said or done. It relates 
to the customs, usages and conventionalities of polite- 
ness or good breeding. In savage and barbarous life 
custom is equal to law in the civilized. It is perhaps' 
even more effective ; for a custom once established, the 
savage scarcely ever thinks of varying from it. In civil- 
ized communities the more important of these customs 
get recognized in law ; but the less important remain as 
the requirements of politeness. Now politeness demands 
many little self-abnegations, even some of greater mag- 
nitude, and at times a strong self-control.; all of which is 
moralizing to the character, and becoming habitual makes 
greater self-denials possible, when higher duties are to 
be fulfilled. To this cause may be attributed a great 
amount of good. It is doubtful, indeed, if politeness as 
an aid to good character, has ever been duly appreciated. 
The young, it is evident, must begin their moral training 
in little things. Good manners are good morals of the 
minor kind; and so far as they have no moral point, 
they are or should be matters of entire indifference. A 
child's moral sense ought not to be confused by making 
indifferent actions right or wrong, and those which are 
right or wrong indifferent As the beginning of a moral 
development that is to end in complete unselfishness, 
politeness can hardly be overvalued. Its oneness with 
morality, and the connection of both with society, are 
easily seen. To the man who lives entirely alone good 
manners and good morals mean nothing ; they are of no 
account ; he has no occasion for either. It is onlv when 



OF MORALITY 6/ 

he comes to associate with others that he needs polite- 
ness or morality. 

Let us now see how far we have come on the road 
of development, and what is yet before us. 

While unorganized society demands of us politeness, 
or morality in little things, the state, the principal form 
or organized society, requires of us justice to our fel- 
lows, subordination, loyalty to the government, and 
patriotism. It manifests its own morality in return by 
attempting to preserve order, to protect the rights of the 
individual, to furnish him some little education, and in 
various ways to advance his welfare. Patriotism is 
the most unselfish sentiment it has evolved, while cos- 
mopolitanism is in germ. 

Religion brings us up to the idea of forgiveness, which 
is a form of magnanimity, a complete setting aside of 
the selfish vindictive impulse. But religion — the high- 
est form of it — does still more. It holds up to us the 
conception of a forgiveness, a generosity, a benevolence 
conferred before it is asked, bestowed on those not 
conscious of needing it, who do not appreciate the gift 
or thank the donor till long after they have received its 
benefit. This high ideal of unselfishness, though not 
peculiar to the Christian system, is, perhaps, presented 
by it more conspicuously than by any other religion. 

The efforts of parents for their children are to some 
extent of this character. So in occasional instances are 
the efforts of estranged friends toward renewal of their 
former friendship ; yet in both these parties there is 
some expectation of additional happiness to be realized 
by themselves as a result of the unselfish action. There 
are other manifestations of benevolence however, in 
which the expectation of any return to self, even that 
of seeing the recipient of bounty enjoy it, is very slight; 
and in some there is only the imagination of what will 



68 THE EVOLUTION 

be enjoyed by the stranger man, woman, or child after 
the benefactor's death. Of such manifestations are hos- 
pitals, asylums, and other institutions for the victims of 
misfortune, together with libraries, and provisions for 
educating the orphan children of the future. We cannot 
credit any one motive for producing all of them, for 
every person is moved by impulses more or less differ- 
ent; but as the predominant one, we must say that 
these come from fidelity to high ideals of du/y and 
humanity ; which at the same time is fidelity to high 
ideals of human needs and rights, is devotion to that 
sense of ought before referred to, as coming from an 
intellectual perception of what should be in order to a 
more complete or perfect happiness. 

There is yet one other manifestation of benevolence, 
which is if possible still more unselfish than any of those 
mentioned. I mean benevolence to animals. Any one 
may be kind to his own horse or dog ; there is a tinge 
of friendship in it ; and the most cruel of men can be 
kind to those he loves. But when this sentiment in- 
terferes to save from cruelty an old mule belonging to 
another person, where no return is possible, except the 
owner's hatred ; or when it feeds a starved, mean-look- 
ing, strange dog to save its life, while the same dog 
would not be allowed in sight if it had any one to care 
for it ; then we see kindness in its purest form, free as 
possible from mixture with any selfish feeling. Such 
acts come from devotion to a high and pure standard, 
contemplated and loved for its own excellence till the 
tendency to realize it has become instinctive, yet not 
so strong but it must sometimes be reenforced by a 
consciousness of duty — a conscious perception that even 
a dog or a mule ought to have some means of happi- 
ness. Still, however, with what seems a strange blind- 
ness, humane people yet fail to see that harmless ivild 
animals have the same natural right to life and freedom 



OF MORALITY 69 

that man himself possesses, so long* as thev do not 
through excess of numbers intrude upon the domain, or 
limit the welfare of some superior race. The proposition 
is a self-evident one. And though the barbarous man 
naturally takes delight in his power to kill anything and 
everything, the civilized one should long before this 
have become tired of such fiendishness as sportsmen 
practice ; and the only apparent reason he has not is 
that a false teaching has justified brutality of this kind. 

Such are the highest developments of the unselfish 
spirit. A proper question now is, how much of it do we 
possess ? If we look around we discover persons who 
exhibit it in all degrees, some capable of its best mani- 
festations as above described. Many of us know such 
individuals, who fairly wear out their lives in labor for 
others — for the sick, the family of helpless children, the 
unfortunate in various ways, the heathen, so-called, 
whose souls they hope to save. I have heard a lady 
say she always spoke to a dog when she met one, 
because it always seemed to make a dog feel happy to 
be spoken to. I have seen another take up under her 
handkerchief a handful of half-frozen wasps and drop 
them outside the window, so that, where unlikely to do 
harm, they might have a chance to continue their lives 
a while longer. Not long ago I read of a man who de- 
liberately placed himself where in all rational probability 
his life would be sacrificed to a horrible disease, in 
order to preach the gospel to a colony of outcast lepers. 
And lately the newspaper told us of a coal-miner, a 
poor, rude, ignorant Pole, who in spite of warning 
rushed into danger and saved his friend's life at the loss 
of his own. Similar instances of moral heroism occur 
frequently. They are all around us, and are reported by 
the press every few days. And when we see how many 
are capable of doing them, and estimate how much un- 



yo THE EVOLUTION 

selfishness there is in the world, we are moved to inquire 
why it is that the condition of humanity is no better. 
What is it that yet remains before the general happiness 
of the true society can be realized? Are the difficulties 
in the environment — the material conditions that sur- 
round us? Are they in the depravity of human nature? 
or are they in our lack of intellectual growth? Is it not 
because our way is dark, and we see not how to proceed 
faster, that our moral progress is so slow, and our 
miseries still so great? The hindrance is not physical, 
for physical progress has improved everything about us, 
and with our physical means we could tear down the 
mountains or bridge the oceans, almost, if we desired. 
There has been a great deal of philanthropic effort, 
but it has effected little good. There is much of educa- 
tion in childhood, and still more of teaching in sermons 
and books in later life. Religion, romance, poetry, 
music, art, all appeal to our better sentiments more than 
to ou: baser ones, and yet we scarcely advance. How 
much better are we than a hundred years ago ? Some- 
what certainly, but only a little. How much happier? 
Some of us enjoy more, and some of us suffer more 
keenly than any did then ; the proportion of happiness 
to misery may not be very much increased. 

The traditional explanation of the fact is natural de- 
pravity. The scientific view answering to natural de- 
pravity is that the aboriginal man, or the civilized child, is 
born w^th his animal, selfish instincts predominant, and 
his higher ones, which fit him for society, only in germ. 
The process of adapting himself to society is the process 
of developing his moral sentiments. He is still in the 
transition state between savagery and complete civiliza- 
tion. His moral feelings are in all stages of growth, in 
different individuals and races, from the most childish to 
the most mature. All around us we see the various 
grades, from the savage to the civilized, from the brute 



OF MORALITY yi 

almost to the angel. Such differences are necessary re- 
sults of evolution. But selfish motives are still predom- 
inant in all but the few. Man's intelligence has not yet 
sufficiently advanced to show him the superior happiness 
of the life controlled by social* feelings ; it has not en- 
abled him to harmonize the conflicting impulses in his 
brain ; nor taught him how to so instruct his children 
that along with their physical maturity they shall grow 
into moral strength, and fitness for close association. In 
short, moral and social science have not kept pace with 
material. The material naturally gains its development 
before the higher kinds, just as do the faculties that take 
interest in material things. As before explained, Physics 
and Chemistry must be known before we can fully under- 
stand living things, and Biology before we can fully com- 
prehend society. Thus it happens that while physical 
science is well on toward its full growth, a large part of 
the social and moral is yet to be learned. 

But here will come up the objection, "Have we not 
already the Ten Commandments, the Sermon on the 
Mount, all the ancient wisdom summed up in the writ- 
ings of Solomon, all the choice selections from the sacred 
books of the old religions, all the moral speculations of 
the philosophers, with all the modern teachings of liberty 
and democracy ; and all these exhibited in a thousand 
lights and aspects, by moralist, preacher, poet, novelist ; 
and do you mean to tell us that we do not yet know all 
our rights and duties, or that we could not make our- 
selves and others happy if we only did as well as we 
know ? " 

Yes, what I mean is that notwithstanding all that, 
something still remains to be taught and learned ; and 
that somethmg is a word to come from Science. What- 
ever we know, or whatever we might do if we would, no 
one's life is ever fully up to his own standard — his own 
conception of what he ought to do. But the more we 



72 THE EVOLUTION 

know the more perfect our standard will be, the more we 
shall be inspired by its beauty and stimulated to make it 
real, the more easily we can surmount our difficulties. 
Therefore, the more we know the better we shall do. 

It- is because it lacks the knowledge science is yet to 
give that religion has no greater moral influence. The 
church has no hope of a Kingdom of God in this world ; 
or at any rate, not till after some hundreds or thousands 
of years more of extremely slow improvement ; or else 
till it is purified by fire and reinhabited by a race of 
saints. Neither Christian teaching, nor any other, has 
ever been able to fit more than a very few persons, if any 
at all, for such a social state as the Kingdom of Heaven 
is supposed to be. Nearly all Christians expect to be 
purified and prepared by some miraculous process after 
getting out of this world before going into the society of 
the angels. Very few believe they can attain to a suffi- 
cient degree of perfection here to save them from con- 
sciously committing sin. And even with these few the 
source of strength is not within themselves, but in the 
spiritual power outside, on which they depend for grace 
in every trial. 

Is there then no possibility of human nature's becom- 
ing so moralized, or spiritualized, or progressed, that the 
individual can stand alone m his goodness ; incapable of 
consciously doing a wrong to any living creature, or 
of failing to right an undesigned one ; and beyond the 
liability of falling away from his union with God and all 
good souls .'* Here on the material earth, in this mate- 
rial organism, full of its natural desires and impulses ; 
here w^here all is now discord and conflict and sin and 
sorrow ; here where the human tree has its natural roots, 
and where already it has attained partial growth, can it 
not continue to grow, to develop its buds and blossoms, 
its beauty and fragrance, its full-grown ripened fruit in 
all perfection .? It is my duty to assert that it can ; that 



OF MORALITY 73 

its destiny is to do this and nothing- less ; that this is the- 
human destiny indicated by science. Science teaches 
us to expect an age of perfect men and perfect institu- 
tions at some period in the future. It will be the in- 
evitable result of evolution. Evolution means nothing 
if it does not imply a progression from the imperfect to 
the perfect. Even if our present civilization should go 
down to ruin, another one must sometime arise; and 
improving upon ours as ours has improved upon pre- 
vious ones, it would at length realize the perfect social 
condition. The only question involved is of the time 
when. Herbert Spencer is generally recognized as the 
best representative of scientific doctrine ; and this is one 
of his statements : "Thus from the persistence of force 
we finally draw a warrant for the belief that evolution 
can end only in the establishment of the greatest perfec- 
tion and the most complete happiness." A similar idea 
is expressed or implied by him more than once, and 
moreover, I think it to be the general opinion of scien- 
tists, especially of all those who accept Evolution as a 
philosophy. From a number of thinkers expressions of 
the same belief could be quoted. 

Then, if so many scientists have faith in a coming age 
of perfection, what is the difference between their view 
and mine.? They, like the few religionists who admit 
its possibility, put the time of it far off in the future, 
both the culmination and the beginning of it. They 
have no expectation that the beginning of such a period 
may be near at hand. They do not see any preparation 
for it already nearly or quite accomplished. On the con- 
trary, in my view, while the general prevalence of such 
a state is still some distance away, the commencement 
of it, among the most advanced portions of the race, may 
occur at any time ; and will do so as soon as any 
two persons standing on unselfish ground, and looking 
through scientific eyes, shall discern the manner of its 



74 THE EVOLUTION 

coming.' That beginning may be perceptible in twenty- 
five years, or ten, or five, or even one. There are chil- 
dren (I see such every day) which might be so trained 
by education as to qualify them for the perfect society 
by the time they become men and women. At least 
that is my very strong belief. There are mature men 
and women in every community who, so far as I can 
judge, need only the proper enlightenment of the intel- 
lect to be morally capable of anything required. It is 
the highest kind of intelligence that our best people now 
lack, more than they do moral feeling. The latter has 
long been cultivated in such poor way as it could be 
without acknowledging the need of intellect or of sci- 
ence ; henceforth the intellect is to do its part, and it is 
likely that better results will not be long in coming 
forth. 

The work now before me is to show what yet re- 
mains to be learned and done, befoj-e the better part of 
humanity can reach the unselfish stage of their develop- 
ment. Of this better part some are in the church, 
and some outside of it. Of those within it some have 
already, through conversion, achieved the conquest of a 
part of the selfish nature, while a part remains — how 
much or little need not be here considered. A few have 
progressed so far as to have given up all selfishness of 
which they are aware ; hence they feel conscious of 
being saved ; they know that through grace as they sup- 
pose, they have conquered and put under their feet all 
that they knew of as standing in their way. When they 
can be enabled to see what yet remains it is not unrea- 
sonable to believe some of these few will triumph over 
that also, and know through both reason and feeling at 
the same time, that their salvation is made final and 
sure. Others, without passing through the process of 
conversion, have inherited much, and in a quiet, gradual 



OF MORALITY 75 

way have added to their inheritance, thus reaching a 
condition of good promise. 

Of those outside the church the more advanced have 
inherited much nobility of character, which in many 
cases has increased by a faithful adherence to con- 
science, and especially by intellectual culture of the 
more ennobling kind. These, too, have their unknown 
forms of selfishness, yet to be contended with when 
plainly seen. From the less cultivated, but honest and 
thoughtful persons of this class I anticipate that many 
will be found able and willing, when properly enlight- 
ened, to come w^ell up toward the high demand of the 
perfect standard. 

Neither the party within, nor that without the church, 
knows the moral condition of the other. The church- 
man may be conscious of a spiritual experience to which 
the outsider is yet a stranger ; and the secularist, while 
looking upon such experience as delusion, knows that 
in his intellectual view he has gained upon the other. 
Both may yet come to the same view and the same 
experience ; and thus become conscious of their real 
brotherhood. Both have unexplored corners of their 
brains in which lurk unknown demons of selfishness, 
and especially that easily-hidden devil of the ijtidlect 
known as Bigotry. The exploration of these dark cor- 
ners, and the dragging into light of the still untamed 
monsters, is the task to be attempted in future dis- 
cussions. 

In the full growth of the moral sentiment it will con- 
stantly and permanently dominate all the other feelings 
of the man. All that is selfish will become unselfish. 
He w^ll not only be incapable of voluntarily doing 
wrong, but he will be capable of voluntarily righting a 
wrong done through his error ; though he have to sacri- 
fice his property or his reputation, his pride, his aft^ec- 



76 THE EVOLUTION 

tions, or his opinions. He will act from the unselfish 
feeling, and think from the unselfish point of view. He 
will acknowledge the claims of another as readily as he 
asserts his own or sooner. He will see clearly that the 
rights and happiness of two persons, other things equal, 
are more important than those of one. He will be able 
to criticise himself habitually, to put himself in the place 
of others, to see his own mistakes and faults as quickly 
as theirs, to learn that his sufferings are the result of his 
own imperfections as much as those of any one else, or 
of the world he lives in. He will desire to learn what is 
right in order to do it, and will be willing to accept truth, 
without prejudice or reserve, from any person or source 
whatever. 

Moreover, with such a willingness to learn there will 
be an ahility to discover scattered grains of truth from all 
quarters, and a complex wholeness of truth, now totally 
unknown, which will enable him not only to completely 
reconcile all his desires and impulses of every kind, but 
to perceive means and modes of happiness of which he 
has now no conception. There is no wildness of either 
fancy or reason in saying that all this is simply the natu- 
ral and inevitable result of the unselfish development — 
that full outgrowth and perpetual dominance of the 
moral sentiment, which by analogy is the blossoming 
and fruiting of the human plant, or by a still better 
analogy, is that mental state answering to the physical 
condition of puberty — a mature iniellectual and moral 
manhood and womanhood — which is to fit humanity for 
that perfect and happy society here called the Kingdom 
of the Unselfish. It will be the manhood and woman- 
hood of the race. And this condition of mind once at- 
tained, it can no more be lost or receded from than a 
man can again become a child, or a tree reinvolve its 
fruit, flowers and buds, and grow downward into a little 
plant. It will have become an organic part of his men- 



OF MORALITY "JJ 

tal constitution. Though spiritual influences, in some 
sense, may aid him to reach it, when finally and fully 
reached it will not be dependent on the grace of God, or 
any spiritual power, any more than the use of his legs 
after he has learned to stand alone and walk. It will 
remain with him a permanent possession, and be his 
normal state of mind as long as consciousness endures. 
The childish, ignorant, selfish, unsocial, savage animal 
of the past, will have evolved into the mature, wise, 
unselfish, divine man and woman, capable of evolving a 
society that shall also be worthy to be called divine. 




^* 



CHAPTER IV. 



INDEPENDENCE. 



BEFORE commencing on any further work it may be 
well to repeat, in more definite manner, what has 
been already said concisely, that the causes operating 
to produce morality are two-fold in character, consisting 
on the one hand of an inducement or compulsion per- 
ceptible to the intellect — something to be desired or 
feared : and on the other hand the habit of self-abneg-a- 
tion, self-denial, or self-sacrifice, through which moral 
action becomes easy. Now the part belonging to habit 
is, except in the case of children, what every one must 
do for himself mainly, with such help as friends can 
give by making favorable circumstances, or by encour- 
agement and sympathy. My business here is to set 
forth the first part, the inducements that appeal to the 
intellect, these being still two-fold, the attractive good 
to be desired or hoped for, and the repulsive evil to be 
dreaded or feared. To the undeveloped man, or in the 
beginning of*the moral life, the necessity of a moral 
course — the fear of consequences to follow if he .does 
not take it — is the principal influence. The attractive 
part — the benefits of such a course — he does not yet 
know, or if at all but slightly. With the more developed 
person, who has already learned something of the su- 



INDEPENDENCE. 79 

perior happiness conferred by unselfish conduct, there 
IS less need of appealing to the fears ; the excellence of 
a high morality is conceivable to him ; the more perfect 
the standard the greater its attractive power, and this 
alone may be sufficient. When both hopes and fears 
can be appealed to there is the greatest effect ; as for 
instance, when some great danger that cannot be avoided 
makes even the timid desperately brave. 

We hear it said sometimes that every man makes his 
own god, to suit himself. This means that God is an 
ideal embodiment -of his standard of morality or good- 
ness. He has formed a conception of God, or more 
probably has accepted one already formed, which is 
best adapted to his own nature — that of a being superior 
to himself, an ideal character to be imitated and ap- 
proached, yet not one possessing qualities different from 
his own, for of such he cannot conceive at all. It 
is a more perfect being of his own stamp. The more 
unselfish he himself becomes the more unselfish be- 
comes his conception of the deity ; and thus his idea of 
God comes to be a good indication of his own grade 
of moral advancement. The improvement of his own 
character allows and enables him to take a higher view 
of the character of Deity. This higher view of Deity is 
then a new and more perfect ideal, stimulating him to 
still better conduct and still greater improvement. 

From such considerations as these then, it is obvious 
that if I endeavor to convince men of the possibility of a 
higher moral life,' I must do so by holding up a more 
perfect and attractive ideal of moral excellence, by 
pointing out greater or more real dangers from immo- 
rality, or else by showing an easier path, through better 
conditions, toward realizing whatever ideals we have. 
Perhaps all of these may be to some extent combined. 

Another point needs a word of explanation. War, 
famine, pestilence, accident, have been mentioned a^ 



80 INDEPENDENCE. 

occasions that bring out moral feeling and action. They 
do or do not, according to the character already ac- 
quired. A healthy boy is made robust by exposure to 
cold, dampness, storms, and all kinds of rough outdoor 
life. But a feebler boy might be injured by the same 
conditions, unless first exposed to milder ones, and 
afterward gradually accustomed to those more 'severe. 
The exposure must be tempered to the degree of vitality 
that is to resist the bad. influences. A community that 
would flee before the presence of Asiatic cholera might 
be able to face a mild type of yellow fever without dis- 
grace. In the first case they would prove cowardly and 
heartless ; in the second they might show much bravery, 
tenderness and generosity. Those compelled to brave 
the dangers and miseries of the lesser disease would by 
so doing probably acquire enough of the nobler moral 
quality to endure those of the cholera, if called upon to 
do so afterward; when without such milder exposure 
first they would fail, and be demoralized instead. 

I will now go on with the subject of Independence, as 
the groundwork and necessary condition of a moral or 
unselfish character. 

It was well said long ago, **The day that makes a 
man a slave takes half his worth away." It does worse 
than that, for it takes away his moral worth entirely. 
He is not only unaccountable, in the ordinary sense, but 
he becomes an instrument for evil in other hands. He 
is placed where for the sake of his physical life he gives 
up all moral vitality. He is like a plant which when all 
its higher development is taken away lives only in its 
roots, till conditions become suitable for a new upward 
growth at some future time. But if no such time comes, 
if the new shoots are cut off as fast as they sprout, the 
root also finally dies. To all appearance it is the same 
with the human being. If the feeble moral efforts and 



INDEPENDENCE .8l 

ambitions put forth by the slave or dependent, continue 
to be opposed, discouraged, bhghted by the circum- 
stances of his life, and the human influence that af- 
fects him, he finally loses all aspiration or desire to 
grow, becoming totally selfish — gloomy, indolent, mean, 
sensual, cowardly, treacherous, bitter, cruel and unprin- 
cipled — morally dead. 

But if complete slavery does all this a partial slavery 
has the same blighting effect in proportion to its de- 
gree. In this country, it is commonly supposed, no one 
individual is a slave to another ; but however that may 
be in law, many are virtually slaves to persons and to 
circumstances combined, and some are the slaves of 
persons or circumstances alone. A lack of training in 
practical worldly wisdom makes many an educated per- 
son in some degree a slave to circumstances, and to any 
individual of superior wealth or influence. Having no 
power to take hold of the world and compel it to give 
them an honest support, they of necessity are depend- 
ent on some stronger person, and must give up their 
wills to his ; their hopes and aspirations must be put 
down to suit his convenience; their lives must be more 
or less controlled and guided, their characters suppressed 
and stunted, or warped, twisted and deformed, by sub- 
serviency to the necessities or pleasure of the stronger 
one. The dependent becomes servile unavoidably. His 
very life and physical comfort are secure only by his do-_ 
ing so. He cannot afford to risk the displeasure of one 
who is his only means of support. Cowardice, decep- 
tion, meanness of every kind, may finally become so 
habitual as to be a second nature. His moral prostitu- 
tion is at last complete; he will sell his conscience, and 
every good quality to obtain the satisfaction of his merely 
animal wants. He is utterly degraded, though he may 
never commit outrageous crime, unless in some way that 
is comparatively safe ; for he has become too cowardly 
to take any risk. 



82 INDEPENDENCE 

The class most liable to become dependent takes in a 
large proportion of educated young men. The profes- 
sions are so crowded that an education for them is little 
better than none at all An industrial or mercantile edu- 
cation is better, but still it must be of the most thorough 
and efficient kind, one that will enable its possessor to 
take a place at the top, or crowd an ordinary man from 
one already occupied; else it gives him no surety of ob- 
taining a support without degradation. A rich man may 
leave his son a fortune, but unless he can confer on him 
the business tact to keep it well invested, and that higher 
wisdom that will prevent his spending it for selfish 
pleasures, the legacy will take wings and leave the in- 
heritor a helpless wreck. 

The young man educated by wealthy parents is already 
handicapped in his life race by notion3 of respectability, 
which make him feel himself above the vocation of a 
.Tiechanic or farmer, and incline him to that of the mer- 
chant or transporter. His pride is an influence which 
goes toward making him a slave. By it he is obliged to 
take up an occupation already crowded with workers and 
aspirants. Unless having unusual talents or influential 
friends he must struggle for even a low position, and 
must work long and faithfully before reaching a place 
that will give him what he considers a respectable sup- 
port. He must put up with more or less of degrading 
submission, he cannot aff"ord to marry, and he is 
tempted to steal. 

Instead of being burdened with this false pride, he 
should be taught that any occupation in which he can 
make use of his knowledge and brain-power, thereby 
gaining an average income, or a decent livelihood with 
something over for the future, is sufficiently reputable. 
Anything better than this is either very good fortune, or 
else in some manner or some degree immoral. There is 
fairly a difference in the respectability of what are called 



INDEPENDENCE 83 

honest avocations ; and one is conscious of this when per- 
manently engaged in work that a person of inferior abihty 
could do just as well. But if it is one into which he can 
carry his intelligence, the only other consideration neces- 
sary is that of natural attraction or peculiar fitness. 
Selecting such a one among those trades or professions 
that make use of applied science, and making himself an 
artist in it, as he should aim to do, he is likely to become 
independent in both property and character, with a fair 
prospect of adding to this all the other virtues. 

Tilling the soil is in these days equally a trade involv- 
ing skill and applied science ; and the ideal farmer is not 
only a man of brains, but may be an artist also if he 
will. 

If we go into the mill, the factory, or the shop of the 
mechanic we find in every case that it is the best work- 
man who is the independent man, who has the most 
courage, who is most prompt to resist the tyranny of 
bosses and sub-bosses when necessary, who is most 
good-natured, frank and generous to his fellows. The 
poor workman, who knows he will be the first one dis- 
charged, is inclined to be cowardly and mean, to submit 
to indignities from everybody, to buy favors of overseers 
by presents or obsequiousness, to turn traitor to his fel- 
lows when there is disagreement between them and the 
employer, to deceive and take underhanded means for 
retaining his own position. Deception is the only sort 
of defence the weak person has, and when once com- 
pelled to resort to that, other and worse meannesses are 
liable to follow. 

So in^the mercantile world ; while the strong man, able 
to manage his business well and successfully may be 
honest, fair and truthful if so disposed, it is the weak or 
unskillful one who resorts to dishonorable methods and 
mean practices ; who cannot afford to be fair when he 
has an advantage, still less to be generous or magnani- 



84 INDEPENDENCE 

mous ; who knowingly does a losing business till com- 
pelled to fail, and cheats all who have trusted him ; 
repeating the process again and again as long as he can 
deceive any one into the folly of giving him credit. 
Finally, bankrupt and disgraced, he is forced to degrade 
himself, outwardly, still lower, and take up any kind of 
mean service that will enable him to live. To expect 
any moral character, any unselfish behavior, any high 
aspirations from him is futile. He thinks only that the 
world owes him a living somehow, and will get it any 
way he can, regardless of others. The "degraded sav- 
age" we sometimes hear about is less unfortunate mor- 
ally than he. 

True it is, at the same time, that the greed for wealth 
has now become so all-engrossing scarcely any business 
man can entirely avoid degradation. The accomplished 
and successful will rob and crush his weaker competitors 
to pile up his gains still higher and higher, as if he could 
never be satisfied. The same process that makes a slave 
makes a tyrant, and that which makes a thief has already 
made, in some way, a robber ; so that while the weaker 
is being demoralized in one direction the stronger is 
demoralized in an opposite one. Yet the superior talents 
of the stronger, by assuring him a competence, and thus 
making him independent, enable his better impulses to 
come into action sometimes under proper incitement ; 
whereas in the weak, unskilled, and unlucky there is no 
chance ; such a one is compelled to be base, and to live 
by base methods, in order to live at all. No moral struct- 
ure can arise without the corner stone of an independent 
spirit ; and this must have a foundation of material wealth 
or some sure means of securing a livelihood. 

The large class of those who grow up to maturity 
without any industrial or business education includes a 
great many women. The natural aversion of mankind 
to hard or monotonous labor, with the increasing dislike 



INDEPENDENCE 85 

and disgrace of it generated by wealth, idleness, and an 
education mainly ornamental, form an influence which 
operates toward increasing the number and proportion of 
such women. At the same time the necessities and in- 
cidents of industrial competition are constantly throwing 
a larger and larger number of such women into the 
ranks of those who labor for wages. The competition 
of women against women in all occupations now open 
to them is already severe ; and with the whole tendency 
of the industrial world operating to render it still more 
so, is it matter of wonder that they are induced or com- 
pelled to sell their virtue along with their work or in lieu 
of it ; and that nearly all over the area of modern civiH- 
zation honorable marriage decreases, while degrading 
alliances and all kinds of crimes against woman are on 
the increase, in some localities very rapidly.* How can 
it be different till women are fitted for an independent 
life by an education and training that will enable them to 
obtain it, as far as is possible under existing industrial 
arrangements ? 

Even those women who are supposed to be fortunate 
in securing a home and maintenance by marriage to 
men of property, — is it at all certain that their condition 
is improved.? The testimony brought out in divorce 
cases indicates that many of these marriages are still 
only relations of tyrant and slave, and anything but 
favorable to moral growth. 

With the married poor there is the same liability to 
misery from the same fault. A poor and uneducated 
woman, without taste or technical ability, has no re- 
source outside of marriage except to do menial work for 
a household, which is degrading in two ways ; first by 
being dirty or menial in itself, and second, by the de- 



* For confirmation of this statement see an article by Henry Hayman giving re- 
sults from Von Gettiugeu's Moralstatistik, in the Fortnightly Review for September 
or October, 1886. 



S6 INDEPENDENCE 

grading treatment she receives as an inferior person, and 
the perpetual consciousness of being so considered. 
And, by the way, it is one of the most hopeful indica- 
tions of moral life that ignorant servant girls become 
capable of rebellion against the spirit of caste, which 
insults them by every word and look, and which cannot 
do otherwise so long as the superior party is willing to 
have an inferior in the house and make no effort to raise 
her to an equality, but on the contrary, looks upon her 
as always to remain inferior. There can be no satis- 
factory domestic service till the superior has acquired 
enough of the social spirit to try whatever means may 
be available to elevate the less fortunate, to consider her 
entitled in every respect to polite treatment, and still 
further, to be willing to learn that degrading work can- 
not be paid for in money alone; that there must be in 
it something of that willing service that friend gives to 
friend or child to parent, and something in the spirit 
and manner of the employer to draw out such service. 
Then there will be little complaint of unwilling, dis- 
honest, or troublesome servant girls, and until then the 
more rebellious and troublesome they are the better ; for 
thus they show enough of the spirit of liberty to resist 
their degradation. 

But the poor, ignorant and incapable woman, tired 
and indignant from her service as an inferior, takes to 
marriage in hope of a better condition. She is still 
however just as helpless; she cannot command the 
respect of her husband, who is selfish and low in his 
instincts, and becomes drunken and brutal. She can be 
nothing but a slave. Submission to rough treatment, to 
coarse animalism, to hard work and excessive child- 
bearing, robs her of health, strength and hope, till 
finally, as I have myself seen, she can submit to be 
sworn at by her half-drunken husband as they go along 
the street, making no resistance, but a whining apology 



INDEPENDENCE 8/ 

instead. How much worse fate does any woman ever 
reach than that? 

Again it is unfortunate that women, while needing 
useful scientific knowledge equally with men, especially 
all that has a bearing upon their natural function as 
mothers, or their traditional occupation as housekeepers, 
they are yet taught to regard the more ornamental sort 
of education or accomplishment as the more important. 
All the old hereditary opinion of their own sex and the 
other tends to confirm this view, and render them indif- 
ferent to their greatest need, They have made some 
progress of late years in discovering what they lack, 
and have done something toward supplying it ; but the 
amount of this latter effort is but a small part of what is 
necessary for their safety and moral well-being. 

I do not forget that certain teachers have always told 
them they were already the most moral or unselfish half of 
the human family. But they will do well not to believe too 
strongly in this grateful delusion. Their virtues are 
mostly negative ones, that may go with weakness and a 
subordinate position, not the positive ones that indicate 
strength. Their unselfishness, omitting exceptions, is 
the sacrifice of weak desires, feeble hopes, and small 
ambitions, not that of great or strong ones; and though 
the superficial appearance may be the same, their good- 
ness is more that of natural innocence than that achieved 
by temptations met and overcome. 

A false pride regarding manual labor has been men- 
tioned as slavery to an idea. Slavery to circumstances 
may be when a man has a family he can barely support, 
when unfortunate relatives need all he can spare, when 
employment fails, or when ill health or accident has so 
crippled his powers he can make his way only by closest 
economy, and with a harder prospect before him as he 
grows old. This man however is not in so bad a moral 



88 INDEPENDENCE 

position as some others. If qualified for his occupation 
he may show no bad spirit from fear of losing it If the 
hardship of his perpetual struggle is liable to drive him 
into some dishonesty, his having a family will in most 
cases aid the growth of unselfish feeling, as a counterbal- 
ance to the unfavorable condition. His poverty how- 
ever, prevents cultivation of the intellect, arid unless 
having done so beforehand, he and his family have but 
small chance to get acquainted with high ideals, so as 
to appreciate their excellence and beauty. The most 
they will obtain of any kind is likely to be from the 
cheap newspaper. 

That lack of surplus wealth which compels one to do 
work for a living is conducive to morality, if the work 
done is useful. But when poverty is grinding, when it 
uses up all the energies in labor, allowing one no leisure 
time to think or to enjoy, then it is anything but favorable. 
There is nothing with which to be generous, no animal 
spirits with which to be cheerful or friendly, no wealth 
of knowledge and thought to make one strong, magnani- 
mous, liberal, charitable or just. 

Many ot the professional class are but little better off 
in this respect than the poor laborer. The politician, the 
clergyman, the teacher, who has no other occupation to 
fall back upon, and whose abilities are not of the first 
order, must be something of a coward and slave. The 
politician does not dare to offend many of his constitu- 
ents by exposing corrupt practices or antagonizing any 
purpose of his party ; the clergyman must not condemn 
his wealthy and influential parishioners, no matter what 
their offence ; the teacher cannot venture to teach any- 
thing that is not religiously and socially orthodox to his 
employers, whatever he believes to be the honest truth. 
All these are mere representatives of the average mass, 
or of the most influential party ; they can learn nothing, 
say nothing, do nothing any better than the majority are 



INDEPENDENCE 89 

ready to accept. For physical needs and comforts they 
sell their consciences and become degraded — less truth- 
ful, courageous, and conscientious than they would be 
if not dependent on somebody for the means of living. 
The few who become moral heroes or great thinkers, 
and lead people up to a higher moral grade, are made 
independent by superior talents, or by simple tastes and 
habits, if not by possession of property. 

To all this complaint the answer may be returned that 
nobody who gives service for hire can be so independ- 
ent that he will not at times be required by the necessi- 
ties of his situation to sacrifice something of what he 
considers truth or justice, or let himself down a trifle 
from the high standard set up by his own interior self- 
respect. He must do that or be liable to do something 
worse. The difficulty is one common to all sorts of 
positions and employments. 

This statement is also true, for the reason that society 
is organized on a selfish basis, at least in its industrial 
part,and the spirit of this dominates in all religion, law, 
and education, so that everything works in a manner to 
cultivate selfishness. Yet there is a difference in situa- 
tions nevertheless. A man may be so circumstanced 
that he will have to degrade himself continually ; or 
again so that in his independence he will rarely be re- 
quired to violate conscience or self-respect, and then 
only in some very small matter. One position is to be 
avoided, the other sought. 

Independence we must have — the consciousness of 
liberty, the love of it, the determination to keep and use 
it. Without it no one can do unselfish deeds, even if 
disposed ; for the fear of circumstances or of persons is 
liable to repress every good impulse before it is carried 
into act. To have it we must have material strength, 
that is, power to command the means of living and 
maintaining our individuality. It may be had without 



go INDEPENDENCE 

property if a person already has the knowledge that can 
preserve health, and the skill that secures employment. 
Such a one is in fact more independent than if owning- 
property, but lacking knowledge and skill. Even the 
farmer cultivating his own land, who has always been 
taken as the type of a free and independent man, may 
through ignorance lose his health, and through sickness 
lose his farm to die a pauper. The intelligent man has 
after all the surest prospect of maintaining his indepen- 
dence. 

There is no need of commending industry and frugali- 
ty as secondary means of attaining to a state of freedom. 
Every one admits the propriety of practicing these vir- 
tues while they must ; though very many by their con- 
duct prove that they consider them virtues only so long 
as they are indispensable. Very few perceive any vir- 
tue in simple tastes, habits and surroundings of them- 
selves ; those who do being the few who think most, or 
who have become famihar with the thought of great 
minds. The struggling poor, who most need to practice 
frugality, are continually kept down by a weak ambition 
to keep up the appearance of greater wealth than they 
possess. This fact is a discouraging one; for although 
it shows a desire for equality, and is really a sign of life, 
yet it betrays a lack of knowledge and thought which 
allows all better purposes to be defeated. 

Apparently there is no way to change this state of 
things except by some kind of education that will make 
the poor wiser than the rich now are. The rich, with all 
their wealth, have no culture, save in rare instances, 
that renders them wise enough to set a good example. 
The poorer class and the intermediate, equally blind, 
imitate the foolishness of the rich ; both alike wasting 
their money and time in senseless efforts for pretentious 
vain show, and in seeking by all sorts of delusive ways 
to enjoy a contemptible kind of happiness. Unless some 



INDEPENDENCE 9 1 

great changes in social administration are to take place, 
it is difficult to see any better prospect for the poor, the 
weak, the uncultivated many for some time to come. 
For it may be relied upon that nothing less than serious, 
earnest thinking, over actual positive knowledge, and 
the contemplation of true, noble standards of character 
and living, with the reasons for all their excellence 
clearly seen, w^ill enable the masses to discover a possi- 
bility of greater happiness, and induce them to attempt 
its realization. The people must be acted upon in a 
more effective manner than church or state has ever 
tried. These have done and are doing what they may 
accordmg to their wisdom ; but the good result is very 
small. The upward progress is so very slow, while the 
opposing influences are still so very strong, that some 
persons of good intelligence doubt that society will ever 
be any better — doubt if it will not on the contrary be- 
come so corrupt as to sink into final ruin, and an age of 
darkness equal to that which followed the decay of the 
Greeko-Roman civilization. 

But what shall we say of the present duty of the rich — 
the idle, the extravagant, the luxurious rich, those who 
now spend their time in trying to enjoy life, with scarce- 
ly a thought of giving enjoyment to others, except by 
thro\ying away the money that cost them little or noth- 
ing. Is it entirely in vain to ask them to set a better 
example — an example of plainness, of modesty, of temper- 
ance, of learning some useful knowledge, and doing some 
useful work in the world ? Does the pleasure they obtain 
overbalance what they suffer from ennui in their idle hours, 
from the repression of their better impulses, from the 
consciousness of living a comparatively ignoble and use- 
less life, from the suspicion that no one of high character 
and true nobility has any respect for them, nor even 
others any more than the outward show of it due to the 



92 INDEPENDENCE 

power of money. Spite of the idea, taught them by al- 
most everybody, that wealth exempts from labor and 
prudence, they cannot justify or respect themselves. 
They must feel that something is wrong. They know 
their muscles and brains are designed to be used, and 
feebleness and disease torments them for neglect of Na- 
ture's requirement. They have an average share of 
moral sense, and must try to satisfy it with the excuse 
that their idleness and prodigality helps the poor. Per- 
haps they need to be told that their whole course of life 
tends to make labor disgraceful and degrading, a heavier 
burden to be borne by the masses who toil. Their prod- 
igality makes all who wait upon their wishes servile, 
insincere and base. Their influence thus becomes 
morally poisonous. It generates slavery, degradation 
and corruption. Whatever good there may be in their 
mode of life this one serious had fact remains. They 
mxust be as well aware of it as everybody else, and when 
they allow themselves to think, the conviction of its 
seriousness will creep in upon them, and the conscious- 
ness that they are living untrue lives, — lives untrue to 
themselves, and untrue to the world of humanity, whose 
labors in the past have placed them in their fortunate 
position ; while the return they make is worse than noth- 
ing, a balance of evil over good. 

But furthermore, wealth does not in all cases confer a 
feeling of independence. Among the wealthy are many 
— more of them women than men — who are dependent 
upon fathers, brothers, husbands or wives for all they 
have to spend. And though a son or daughter who will 
make some little effort to add to a parent's happiness 
may be freely granted all that is desired, there are great 
numbers of such persons who have to feel that the 
money or support they receive comes unwillingly, or 
as a disagreeable matter of course, for which no satisfac- 
tory return is ever made. Such dependence is entirely 



INDEPENDENCE 93 

fatal to all nobility of character, all worthy motives, all 
earnest thought. The dependent of this kind is more 
degraded than a slave, more unfortunate than a pauper 
made so by adverse fate ; for the rich dependent can 
scarcely have a trace of self-respect, while the pauper or 
slave can feel that he is not one willingly. Even when 
some affection goes with the money gift, the recipient 
must be sensible that affection ought to be paid for only 
in affection, and that still no proper return is made. No 
true love ever reaches the willing dependent ; for he or 
she has become so wholly selfish there scarcely remains 
anything in the character to attract the sincere affection 
of anybody. 

Is there any salvation for these unfortunate victims of 
good fortune, the most unfortunate perhaps of any except 
the criminal .? I know of only one, — such a change of af- 
fairs as will throw them on their own resources, compel- 
ling them to learn some useful work, and acquire some 
useful knowledge, as the only condition of their living at 
all. 

No one need envy this class of persons. Brought up 
in affluence, pampered when children, taught little or 
nothing of much value, encouraged to believe themselves 
superior to working people, allowed the gratification ot 
all their whims and expected to make no sacrifice of any 
kind, they necessarily become selfish, haughty and arro- 
gant, unfriendly, impolite and disagreeable, with no true 
conception of what goodness, morality, or unselfishess 
means. When the wealth on which they depend is 
thrown away or lost, as it is almost sure to be, they are 
left helpless and miserable, with no preparation to battle 
with the world, and nothing within themselves to sustain 
them in misfortune or bring any comfort. In their strug- 
gle they are at a continual disadvantage ; their education 
is worse than none, and the process of unlearning is 
terribly severe. In many cases their lives are filled 



94 INDEPENDENCE 

to the brim with misery, and end in reckless despair or 
crime. 

What terrible wrong is it in society that allows such a 
result as this, — first the excessive accumulation of wealth, 
and afterward the long torture and sacrifice of its victims ? 

In that bright future to which I have "previously called 
attention, toward which we are fast hastening under the 
progressive influence of scientific ideas, and whose be- 
ginning will probably not long be delayed^in that con- 
dition of things there will be no rich nor poor, no free 
robbery under the name of competition or freedom in 
trade, no monopoly, no extortion, no speculation, no 
gambling, and what is more, no spirit of gambling cov- 
ered up in the desire to make large profits with little labor 
or expense. Although labor, by itself, niay never be wholly 
agreeable to us, the circumstances connected with it, the re- 
speciahility of it, allowed by every one, and the full nat- 
ural reward secured to it, will altogether remove the old 
traditional curse, and render it always pleasant. No one 
will be educated to avoid or dislike it, and public opinion 
will not only hold it honorable, but all gain acquired 
without it as dishonorable. No man or woman will be so 
ignorant as to suppose he or she can be happy without 
it ; no one will willingly be dependent upon a rich rela- 
tive even if there were one, or consider such a position as 
otherwise than debasing. Every woman as well as man 
will be a worker, whatever she may take her work to be. 
The present idle class, if any of them should be so for- 
tunate as to reach that state, will in ceasing to be idlers 
and spendthrifts cease to be shallow and frivolous ; 
while those who now do nothing but work will by hav- 
ing less to do, and a better reward for doing that, be able 
to obtain some better culture for their hearts and brains. 
Opportunity to labor will be the acknowledged right of 
every one ; and no one of either sex will need to fear the 



INDEPENDENCE 95 

loss of employment for any honest freedom of speech or 
action. The means of independence being thus secure, 
the independent spirit comes in as naturally as fullness 
of breath in the pure, sweet air of a balmy spring morn- 
ing. 

When the necessary condition of morality can be se- 
cured in freedom to labor and to live, and the beginning 
of it becomes manifest in a spirit of independence, it is 
then possible for a person to have moral courage, to dare 
do right, and to speak the truth. Whatever his con- 
science may command he will be free to do if he will. 
He will have no excuse for failure except his own weak- 
ness. The servility, deceit, treachery, cowardice, tyr- 
anny and general baseness of a state of slavery or de- 
pendence will gradually disappear, and their places be 
taken by the opposite qualities of manliness, frankness, 
faithfulness, honesty, friendliness and general amiabil- 
ity. Generosity being germinated with these, it becomes 
possible to graft upon it successively all the higher forms 
of self-sacrifice ; the process, if continued, terminating in 
the complete conquest of the selfish nature, and the per- 
manent outgrowth and preponderance of the unselfish 
impulses. 

Here then is the beginning of the course; here the 
first step to be taken toward gaining that high estate. 
The succeeding ones may be different to every different 
person and no systematic order or plan can be made out. 
In treating of them hereafter I shall take them up merely 
as it happens. 

But now, let us suppose that all people were industri- 
ous — none were idle — all the rich who now live on their 
incomes ; all the dependent women ; all the genteel 
loafers and sports ; a good share of the invalids, who 
would be well if they had useful work ; all the gambler? 



96 INDEPENDENCE 

and speculators; all the intemperate and lazy tramps 
and saloon ornaments, with nearly all the saloon keepers 
besides ; — all doing honest work of whatever kind they 
could do best. What chance would then remain for the 
present toilers; how much employment would they 
have and what wages would they get for it? With soci- 
ety as it now is, with the same ideas concerning property 
and the relations of capitol and labor that now prevail, 
what would these workers do? With another army of 
workers almost as large as their own pressing into the 
labor market, competing for the work to be done and the 
money to be paid for it, what could they do but emigrate 
— all who were not too poor? Do you intimate that many 
of them would be occupied in frivolous work of decora- 
tion for the rich, who would spend more for such work 
than they now do? They already spend for as much of 
it as they can appreciate, or fashion demand, yet can- 
not give employ to all who want it. Remunerative new 
enterprises are few, and nothing would remain but emi- 
gration. And when emigrants shall have occupied all 
the swamps and pine barrens of New Jersey and the 
Atlantic coast, all the worn-out lands of the Southern 
states, all the inhabitable parts of the Rocky Mount- 
ains and the Alkali plains, (for the best soils of the West 
are already taken up) when they have spread over the 
frozen wilds of Northern Canada and the torrid jungles 
of Central America and Mexico, still the same condition 
of things will exist. Is the process of expatriation to be 
continued forever ? Are the poor to be eternally crowded 
out into the swamps and mountains of the earth, to meet 
the fate of wild beasts if they can do no better? And 
what if after this part of our country has become thick- 
ly populated, and the best lands all occupied, these 
people who are thrown out of employment should 
refuse to be driven into the mountains and swamps ? Do 
you say that will be a question for your children or for 



INDEPENDENCE 9/ 

their children? Still that has nothing to do with the 
rightfulness of the matter. And is it right to leave a 
troublesome question to them? Is it right that the process 
of starvation and expatriation should be kept up till their 
time? Can you in any way make it out to your con- 
science to be a right thing at all. 

If, however, this problem seems too hard, take it in an 
easier shape. You must admit that every one ought to 
have some occupation ; it is necessary in order to have 
any independent feeling, or any moral character, or to 
be anything but a nearly worthless parasite, supported 
by somebody's industry. This is indeed too evident to 
be denied or fairly questioned. Yet, suppose all idle 
people in our country to be immediately converted to 
that doctrine, and turned into workers, either useful or 
merely ornamental, what would be the effect notwith- 
standing emigration ? How many thousand tramps would 
be made, how many hundreds die of starvation, and 
how many thousands from fevers and the various dis- 
eases that kill off the poor, living on poor food, in un- 
healthy dwellings, in filthy or malarious localities? And 
where is the wrong in society that prevents a right thing 
from being done without such fearful consequences? 
Please, reader, take the question home to yourself, think 
of.it whenever it has a chance to come up, ask yourself 
what the right to labor means to one who has no other 
way of living, yet is thrown out of work for a long time. 
Put yourself in his place, and perhaps some thoughts 
will come into your brain that never were there before. 

"The curse of the poor is their poverty" said the wise 
old Solomon ; and I must add that it is the great ob- 
stacle to their gaining a spirit of independence, and an 
advance in moral growth. The old problem — how to 
remove it — is still unsolved, though later efforts are more 
hopeful than previous ones. Whatever I can do toward 
the final solution will be ofi"ered in another essay when 



98 INDEPENDENCE 

I come to discuss the industrial philosophy and policy 
of a society as it will be when approaching the Unselfish 
Stage. 

In all that has been here advanced it is not forgotten 
that there are other causes or conditions of immorality 
than poverty or dependence ; nor that instances of moral 
heroism are frequently found among the poor. A poor 
man may be courageous and independent because he has 
learned to endure discomfort and semi-starvation, or in 
his ignorance become reconciled to poverty as his una- 
voidable fate. In either case he has ceased to have 
wants, and by going backward to nothing has acquired a 
certain independence — the independence of the savage. 
In other instances an unselfish bravery or generosity 
may be exhibited because the manifestor's life has been 
ruined by some mistake or other misfortune, and being 
of little value he or she does not hesitate to risk it for 
some good purpose. But the virtue in such case comes 
through degradation, not through development, and may 
contain as much of recklessness as of generosity. 




CHAPTER V. 



VANITY AND PRIDE. 



IN taking up different forms of selfishness without re- 
gard to order I begin with Vanity and Pride, two 
weaknesses not generally considered very serious, but 
which in reality are two very great hindrances to the 
full growth of the unselfish nature. Both of these are 
virtues at the beginning of the moral career; both are 
aids, inducements, and encouragements at the time when 
moral impulse is feeble, when popularity and position 
help one to be worthy of what is professed, of what is 
credited by reputation, or of what belongs to the posi- 
tion held. The love of approbation stimulates to at- 
tempt praiseworthy conduct ; and when a higher position 
is thereby gained pride helps to retain it permanently ; 
and to a certain extent protects against temptation. But 
like the shell of an egg to the young bird, their protec- 
tion finally ceases to be needed, and then they obstruct 
the further development of that which they protected. 
Like the egg-shell also they have to be broken, to let the 
enclosed life out into the free, air and sunshine, naked of 
all false clothing, stripped of everything that does not 
belong to it. After a mighty struggle, perhaps, with the 
enclosing shell of pride, the growing human soul at 



lOO . VANITY AND PRIDE 

length steps out, weak and exhausted it may be, but re- 
joicing in its new-found Hberty. 

By Vanity is meant the feeling of approbativeness, the 
desire of praise, of popularity, of being well-spoken of. 
Pride is of various species — pride of success, dignity or 
pride of position, pride of self-will or obstinacy, pride of 
opinion, pride of learning, pride of goodness or self- 
righteousness, pride of wealth, pride of race, blood or 
caste. All of them agree in this that they claim some- 
thing to which the person is not honestly entitled. The 
selfishness of pride consists in dishonesty holding on to 
its position ; the sacrifice or mortification of it consists in 
a person's being compelled to step down or fall to the 
place where one rightfully belongs. Apparently there is 
an exception to this when the bad conduct of a single 
person disgraces or degrades a whole family or society, 
in the public estimation ; but really in such case the dis- 
grace comes from erroneous opinion- — there is no true 
judgment ; for every individual is entitled to stand or fall 
upon his own merits only, regardless of any other, and 
according to this rule the previous statement is true, and 
the sacrifice of pride is a step toward honesty. 

In its essential nature, then, Pride, as the time arrives 
for a higher outgrowth, becomes a fraud, a thief or a 
cheat, a robber holding what is not its own. Vanity is a 
beggar. Vanity might have been called a kind of pride 
— the pride of reputation ; but there is this marked differ- 
ence between it and others, that vanity belongs to weak 
characters, and pride to stronger ones, corresponding to 
the difference between the beggar and the one who takes. 
The one who manifests much desire for praise or popu- 
larity is ordinarily a fop, a dude, a butterfly, a braggart 
or a pretender — all names that imply some inferiority of 
intelligence. Persons of much stronger minds may in- 
deed have it, but they possess pride in a stronger degree. 
The one who has most pride is generally the one who 



VANITY AND PRIDE lOI 

cares least what people think or say of him. Every one 
has somewhat of both feelings, the proportion varying to 
any extent. 

In saying that pride, like the bird's egg-shell, is to be 
broken, shed, and left behind, let me not be misunder- 
5tood. . There is sometimes a breaking of a man's pride 
which breaks the whole spirit of the man ; but that is not 
the kind of break that is required. That is a break, 
caused by circumstances ; one which crushes the man's 
self-respect and degrades him, because no unselfish feeling 
is concerned in ii But when he surrenders his pride in 
obedience to duty, his conscience, the most interior part 
of him, obtains a deep satisfaction, and his inward self- 
respect is greater than be/ore. He is not crushed, ex- 
cept outwardly,, and instead of being weak and hopeless 
he is stronger, more hopeful, better prepared for all the 
honest and useful work of life. In the true and natural 
process the surrender of pride is a sacrifice of selfish feel- 
ing at the behest of the moral or unselfish, because it 
stands in the way of some good that needs to be done. 
Then every result of the operation is good, and good 
only for all concerned. 

Let us see first how the process works with Vanity or 
Approbativeness. To those who have not yet come to 
desire a higher life — a moral condition beyond the ordi- 
nary — I can say nothing except that they must combine 
as much wisdom as possible with their love of admira- 
tion. I am speaking mainly to those more advanced, 
who are conscious of having aspirations. 

Any person who attains a moral development superior 
to that. of his neighbors is liable at any time to be sus- 
pected, disliked, and reprobated, simply because he will 
sometimes do things with the best of motives, things 
which with those motives are entirely right and proper 
to. all who understand them, but which to those not actu- 
ated by such motives appear to be prompted by un- 



I02 VANITY AND PRIDE 

worthy or suspicious ones. These people, for a reason 
previously given, are unable to conceive of any better 
moral state than they have themselves reached. Being 
obliged to account for the better person's action by their 
own motives only, they attribute to him or her the same 
purposes they would themselves have in doing what 
seems to them to be the same thing ; consequently it is 
an inferior motive, and he or she suffers an unjust loss 
of reputation. It is a natural result, one that cannot be 
helped, a thing to be expected and prepared for as far as 
possible. No condemnation is to be gii^en to those who 
misunderstand, no contempt or unfriendliness. 

Any one, therefore, who sets out to reach the Kingdom 
of the Unselfish will suffer more or less from this loss of 
good repute. Besides this, the candidate for the Unsel- 
fish degree must be prepared to do unselfish work wher- 
ever it needs to be done, and in some cases it may need 
to be done among those who are low and vile. When- 
ever any one shows indication of willingness to take a 
step forward every true man or woman should be wil- 
ling to offer a helping hand. But any association with 
the degraded and disreputable may, for a time at least, 
entail more or less disgrace upon the respectable person 
so associated. The reproaches cast upon Jesus two 
thousand years ago will be repeated almost as quick and 
as much now as then. This too, must be discounted in 
advance. The praiseworthy conduct will receive its due 
appreciation at last, but it may be necessary to give 
humanity a long credit before it is ready to pay. 

There are persons who, having lived all their lives in 
society, have talents and accomplishments fitting them 
to win admiration and praise from people who consider 
themselves less fortunate. While many of these lack the 
qualities that give stability and solid worth of character, 
their social education teaching them to be selfish, there 
are others who possess good impulses and are capable of 



VANITY AND PRIDE IO3 

making much moral progress. But though accomplish- 
ment makes all intercourse with our fellows easier, and 
is thus useful for a good purpose, all expectation of popu- 
larity or admiration from it for its own sake must be given 
up. The life that aims at pleasing people must be 
thoroughly subordinated to that which aims at cultivation 
of the nobler feelings. The praise of the many may have 
to be exchanged for that of the few, the very few per- 
haps, and these few themselves not popular. Everything 
that is bright, pleasant, graceful and beautiful, will after 
these qualities have become unselfish, be appreciated as 
heartily by the earnest workers in this new realm as by 
any outside of it ; but none the less the present sacrifice 
must be made, the unselfish sentiment must come to 
completely dominate the selfish, before the latter can se- 
cure its natural and proper satisfaction. 

Let us suppose that in all these ways the ordinary love 
of approbation is crucified in an earnest effort to reach a 
higher state. What return is there for this loss of ad- 
miration from the many.? There is the more hearfelt 
admiration of the few who can sympathize with the 
soul's moral struggle, and who will bestow a genuine and 
just praise upon every effort to cast away vanity or 
pride, as a step taken toward that happier condition. Be- 
ing just in their criticism they will give all the commen- 
dation that is deserved ; no one will fail to get what is 
due. Though less in quantity it will be better in quality. 
Moreover, it will reach some who never expected it, and 
who never do receive the credit they deserve from the 
thoughtless and morally indifferent men and women of 
the world. The desert of it and the bestowal of it will 
both have become unselfish. No thought of treachery 
or pretense, no lurking sting of envy, will remain to 
adulterate or poison the happiness of either party. It 
will be deep, sincere, spontaneous, natural, free, just and 
happifying. The commendation of the good is reen- 



J04 -VANITY AND PRIDE 

forced by that of one's own conscience, and thus becomes 
worth far more, than that previously received. 

Somewhat akin to vanity is that sort of pride which 
refuses to submit to unfavorable criticism, and becomes 
very touchy at the least apperance. of faultfinding. Those 
who have it most strongly are sometimes described as 
being very sensi'/we; which means that their selfishness 
sticks out all over them like a porcupine's bristles, so 
thickly one can hardly touch them anywhere without 
hitting one of these selfish points and getting pricked. 
It is a form of selfishness very, dilficult to get along with, 
and those who have it suffer from it nearly as much as 
those whom it affects. 

This kind of pride is universal. Everybody has a 
share of it, and justifies himself in having it, or rather 
never blames himself for it, because he has never been 
seriously taught that it is a vice. The church it is true, 
tells him that if a brother has cause of offence against 
him he must settle the matter privately, which implies 
an acceptance of some degree of blame. And the 
Roman church further requires that his sins be submit- 
ted to his confessor for reproof and punishment. In the 
family too, and among intimate friends there is more or 
less faultfinding ; while children .are taught that they 
;««s/ submit to it, not that they ought to. In none of 
these proceedings, except possibly in the confessional, is 
the right view of the matter taken. No one ever gets the 
idea that he or she is morally hound to accept adverse 
criticism, from whoever is sufficiently concerned to offer 
it, and without getting angry in return. Here is the 
proof and illustration. Every one condemns that criti- 
cism exhibited in gossip, tattling, backbiting, slander. 
Partly because more harm than good comes from it, but 
more because no one is willing to submit to it, or ac- 
knowledges any duty to do so, or any right of others to 



VANITY AND PRIDE IO5 

canvass his faults. **They are nobody's business," is 
the conrimon expression, and th^ • comijion opinion. 
Those who speak- of them are considered greater sinners 
than those who are guilty. 

This common sentiment in regard to criticism, public 
or private, is what needs to be entirely reversed. In- 
stead of no one's having a right to talk, every one has 
such a right. Instead of getting angry at it, and feeling 
justified in so doing, every one should be expected to 
submit to it without anger, or any sense of insult or 
injustice; and if it be true to correct himself or herself 
accordingly. Instead of being nobody's business, one's 
conduct is the concern of everybody who knows of 
it. Nearly every one has a moral sense that is hurt and 
offended by any outrage or injustice, whoever may be 
the author, or the victim of it. So every one has an 
intellectual sense that is disgusted by silliness or folly, 
and has a right to put it down by criticism. Every one 
too has an artistic sense that is pained by whatever is 
rude, slovenly, awkward or ill-mannered. There is an 
injustice suffered by all whose feelings are hurt, and 
justice allows them to speak of the offense and the 
offender. And instead of having this criticism whis- 
pered around privately, for fear somebody's selfish pride 
will be damaged, it ought to be done openly and frankly, 
with no thought of apology or excuse. The culprit is 
not the one who talks, but the one who complains of 
talk. "Mind your own business" commonly implies the 
existence of something that will not bear the light. The 
proper return for gossip and criticism is to surprise it 
by frankly admitting one's error, making it right as far 
as possible, and letting one's repentance and good con- 
duct be canvassed as freely and far as was the bad. As 
long as the present assumption is maintained that no- 
body has a right to criticise except the one or the few 
most seriously affected, so long will gossip flourish and 



I06 VANITY AND PRIDE 

slander be complained of. But if people could once un- 
derstand that a certain person submits habitually to 
correction from others, they would have much less dis- 
position to discuss such a one's affairs. The greatest 
wrong in the whole matter is the assumption of a privi- 
lege to do wrong and escape all punishment. 

Let me not, however, be understood to approve of the 
ordinary faultfinding and gossip, as the best means of 
correction. On the contrary it is crude, harsh and every 
way imperfect ; often so unjust and slanderous that the 
subject of it is well entitled to criticise the critics in 
turn. The more correct method, for those ready to ac- 
cept it is, whenever applicable, a private one. The 
proper critic is some friend well acquainted with the 
offender, and who can apply criticism with no motive 
except to benefit; just as the disinterested physician 
administers harsh medicine, or the surgeon cuts out a 
foreign growth. Rightly viewed, there is no more oc- 
casion for bitterness of feeling in one case than in the 
other, nor by either party. It is simply moral medicine 
and surgery ; the two things being as near alike as two 
analogous things can be. And if people could be rightly 
educated concerning this matter there is reason to believe 
certain ones would become so expert in this kind of 
treatment that their services would be sought for and 
rewarded, as readily as we now pay an expert for curing 
a fever, or setting broken bones. 

In the future society this result is certain. In the 
first place because the advanced intellects ready for that 
society will see its wisdom — will see a great benefit to 
be derived from it ; and secondly, they will be morally 
ready to give up their pride as a matter of duty to others. 
For in every refusal to submit there is involved some 
loss, some injury, some undeserved suffering to another 
person or more than one. The proud feeling is purely 
selfish in this case ; the willingness to submit is unsel- 



VANITY AND PRIDE IO7 

fish. No honest and true feeling can be hurt by sub- 
mission ; for not only will every one afterward have 
more genuine respect for one's self, but will receive 
more respect from all whose good esteem is best worth 
having. There will be no bitterness nor contempt in 
gossip, no slander, no treachery to friends, no con- 
cealment, no confidential tattling ; for all occasion, all 
excuse, all desire for it will be taken away. Yet indi- 
viduals will be talked about still, talked about just as is 
a sick person in a conference of his friends. All the 
spiritual symptoms, the diagnosis, and the best method 
of treatment. But this supposes all these friends to 
know that the patient has the same desire to become 
morally well that he has to be physically well ; and the 
same tendency to improve under treatment, — a state of 
mijid which among the class in view will be certain to 
exist. Still more, every one will be a friend. 

Acceptance then of unfavorable criticism, whether 
given in kindness or in anger, without resentment, but in- 
stead with a calm, candid self-examination, to see if the 
accusation be true — this is to be acknowledged as a duty, 
as a requirement of simple justice. The way is then 
open for a reconciliation of estranged friends, and the 
settlement of all kinds of quarrels and difficulties. The 
parties concerned are now kept apart by a pride of 
the same stamp as that which resents criticism. It is 
looked upon as a humiliation for one to approach the 
other. Neither can afford to do it. If the view which 
one party takes of the cause of offense be correct there 
is no reason for making an advance ; that is for the 
other to do, who is so plainly in the wrong. When he 
or she does it will be time enough to forgive. 

Now this reasoning somehow always produces bad 
results. The differences are never settled, the parties 
never reconciled, the forgiveness never asked or grant- 
ed, except rarely, when mutual friends arrange a com- 



I08 'VANITY AND PRIDE 

promise, B.nd peTSua.de the opponents to be at peace. 
But a compromise is only a lesser evil, it is never 
satisfactory, the right feeling is never restored by it. 
There is no sacrifice of a false pride, as there ought to 
be ; while there may be a sacrifice of independence, 
•which ought not to be. With or without compromise the 
had effects remain, and this is sufficient to show that in 
some way the ordinary reasoning is defective. 

The trouble is that each one is reasoning from the 
selfish point of view; all the time thinking of how much 
injury he or she has suffered from the other, never of 
how much the other has suffered from him or her ; al- 
ways thinking of the good things one's self has done, 
never of what has been done by the other; always 
of the provocation received, never of the provocation 
given ; always considering self to be well-disposed and 
honest, never allowing the other to be so ; never putting 
self in the other's place to see with that other's eyes or 
feel as the other may feel ; never criticising self except 
to justify, always criticising the other to condemn. 

This is the selfish reasoning ; it is also the selfish 
feeling. There is no generosity, no magnanimity, no 
pity, no justice in it. It needs to be entirely reversed. 
First, by admitting that you (the reader, perhaps) are 
selfish in it; second, by remembering that the other 
party is, like yourself, feeling selfish and thinking from 
the selfish standpoint. With a different feeling and 
different view there will be different action. How is it 
to be brought about ? Selfishness in one confirms selfish- 
ness in the other; generosity brings out generosity. 
Try the opposite policy all through. Admit that your 
enemy may have some sense of honor if not of justice 
— some little disposition to do what seems to him or her 
the right thing. Then take the unselfish point of view 
by putting yourself in the other's place. Instead of 
thinking what provocation you' have had think of what 



VANITY AND PRIDE lOp 

you have given. Think, besides all the harm you have 
done, of all the good you have failed to do. See if you 
can find where you have been unjust. It will be easy to 
see where you have been unkind or uncharitable. Think 
of what may have been misunderstood. Be candid 
enough to admit that you may have misunderstood 
something yourself; for selfishnes§ is always suspicious. 
Think how everything must appear to the opposite party. 
Think of what there may be in that person's character or 
circumstances that disposes to wrong doing, or that may 
palliate it. Finally, make an effort to be generous. And 
whether any one else is so or not, determine that you 
will at least be just, and do all that can be asked of you. 
Whether at fault much or little, even if but a tenth part of 
the blame belongs to you, confess your guilt as far as 
you see it, and more when you discover more. Don't 
enquire what the other one will do. Leave that/br the 
other. If you are the first to know the right way be the 
first to take it. Acknowledge the most mortifying things 
of all ; the greater the sacrifice of pride the greater the 
moral work done, and the better the effect. And be- 
lieve me, such an effort will seldom be in vain. Your 
willingness to learn your own fault and to make it right 
will incite the same disposition on the part of another, 
and bring out only good in return. The gloomy, hate- 
ful, obstinate, and unhappy proud feeling is but a poor 
thing compared to the unselfish one that will be devel- 
oped by the unselfish course here indicated. 

But never attempt a reconciliation with a purpose to 
prove yourself better than another — to show that you can 
do right — without caring whether a good return is pro- 
duced or not ; for this is only the same old pride in 
another form — the form called self-righteousness, which 
taints and spoils a great many efforts designed to be 
good. Be unselfish enough to desire a good effect on the 
other party, for the other's sake. If the return is less 



no VANITY AND PRIDE 

than you think it should be, still be generous enough to 
remember that he or she may not be able to see his or 
her faults as readily as you do yours, and feel and act 
accordingly ; not perhaps with as much of the old friend- 
ship (if it be a friend) but with more of charity. There 
may never be as good a result as you hope for, but there 
will be good feeling, what there is ; and you will be sure 
of increased moral self-respect, and satisfaction of con- 
science ; not only for obeying the mandate of duty, but 
in the thought that you are helping along some other soul 
in its progress toward the unselfish state. 

In that unselfish condition there will be no pride to 
prevent reconciliation, nor even to make difficulties. A 
misunderstanding will need only the asking of a question 
to bring out an explanation of all that seems wrong. 
Confidence will be so strong it cannot be seriously 
weakened. The apparent or suspected misdoings will 
be so many occasions for renewing and strengthening 
it; for. every such occasion will develop a new proof of 
faithfulness, and of the moral quality that cannot be 
false, or consciously do another an injury. Self-criticism 
will be a habit stronger and more common than that of 
criticising others ; so thorough indeed there will be little 
need of the other kind ; but the right of others to criticise 
being acknowledged, there can be no quarrel. The very 
beginning of it will be its end. If arising through haste 
or thoughtlessness, the impulse to it is already mastered 
as soon as one has time to think, and the pride also that 
might support it. If a quarrel or difficulty could exist 
that fact would be conclusive proof that two persons at 
least had failed to reach the unselfish condition they 
supposed themselves to be in. 

Friendship will find itself in a new world ; a world 
where all is faithfulness instead of treachery ; where all 
is frankness in place of deception ; where all fear of 
disappointment is gone ; where every one is interested 



VANITY AND PRIDE III 

in every other, and the sentiment is free to flourish, 
expand and grow, and rejoice in its own unbounded 
satisfaction. 

But criticism of the kind now in view may have a 
much larger field of usefulness. All varieties of defects 
and misdemeanors — habits, looks, dress, carriage, man- 
ners — all the little things now spoken of to everybody 
except the right one, can all be treated openly and fairly, 
with a rational plan for effecting the improvement of 
every fault, when once the right state of feeling has been 
gained. When the criticised as well as the critic has a 
desire for improvement, and both are actuated by a good 
motive there is a very different prospect of results from 
what has ever been known under the old methods and 
spirit. All the false habits of thought and speech, as 
well as feeling, can then be reached and corrected. The 
whole man or woman, though rough and irregular as 
a wild apple-tree in an old pasture, can be trimmed, 
smoothed, balanced, grafted, straightened up, trained to 
grow into a beautiful form, and to produce beautiful 
and wholesome fruit in good deeds, clear thought, and 
graceful behavior. The very circumstances and per- 
sonnel which will constitute the social environment, will 
furnish a new stimulation to the moral soil, a new moral 
atmosphere, and a moral climate like that of perpetual 
spring. 

One of the earliest and most common forms of pride 
is obstinacy or self-will — the determination to maintain 
a position because change would imply a confession 
of error and be humiliating. It, like the sensitiveness 
mentioned, is the virtue of the slave made free — of one 
just beginning to acquire manliness and self-respect, and 
who cannot therefore afford to risk the loss of any repu- 
tation or dignity. To such a one it may be useful, but 



1 12 VANITY AND ' PRIDE 

it will be outgrown long before a person reaches the 
Unselfish Stage. 

The self-estimation on account of wealth seems in- 
expressibly foolish to any high view of life or des- 
tiny. One may rightfully rejoice in the possession of a 
moderate amount of property; but nothing more. It 
makes no one better except by the advantages given for 
self-improvement; and one disposed so to use it soon 
casts off all the pride. It is the ignorant rich who 
manifest such pride offensively. If wealth is inherited 
it is only a piece of good fortune. If the owner has 
gained it by his talents and energy, these also are in- 
herited, and the case is altered only by inheriting the 
means of getting instead of the thing itself. If he has 
acquired it by cultivating a smaller inherited power still 
the activity of mind which, disposed him to do this is 
likewise an inheritance, a piece of mental good fortune 
which enables him to obtain the material one. He has 
what his ancestry and his circumstances have conferred 
upon him — nothing more ; the poor person has the same. 
Circumstances may take the wealth away, and it is then 
as foolish to feel degraded by the loss as to feel elevated 
by the possession. 

What maKes the pride of wealth still more senseless 
and disgusting if possible is the fact, known to almost 
ever)^body except the ignorant rich themselves, that 
there are higher grades of talent than the talent for ac- 
cumulating money, and higher aspirations than the de- 
sire to be rich. The student, the thinker, the artist, the 
investigator, all have a higher order of talent and skill ; 
and because they have higher aspirations they subordi- 
nate money-getting to a nobler purpose and remain poor 
— too poor in many cases to carry out their better 
purposes. Their better talent however is still an in- 
herited one and confers no right to despise another. 



VANITY AND PRIDE II3 

What the man himself, independent of causes acting on 
him, can do is nothing. 

The assumption that material wealth gives superior- 
ity, or ought to give distinction, will never gain admis- 
sion to the Kingdom of the Unselfish. One must be far 
beyond the stupidity of believing it, or the dishonesty 
that would allow himself to pass on such an assumption 
if he could. 

Still less will the pretense that idleness indicates supe- 
riority find any favor. The Kingdom of Heaven, wrote 
Swedenborg, is a kingdom of uses ; in which every one 
finds some occupation of his time that will be of use to 
others by conferring happiness, directly or indirectly, and 
is never idle. He reports a great number of industries 
and services as organized for making human energy use- 
ful and happifying. 

Well, whether this may be correct or not regarding the 
spirit world, it will certainly be true sometime of this 
world. An unselfish person can have no wish to be 
idle, cannot possibly be content unless his abilities are 
put to some unselfish use, some effort tending to produce 
happiness, either directly and immediately, or remotely 
by fitting himself for greater usefulness in future. Pure- 
ly selfish enjoyment or amusement for its own sake can 
have no place among such persons. For rest, for rec- 
reation, for satisfying the bodily and mental needs, for 
every useful end there will no doubt be a full sufficiency 
of it; never for any such motive as now animates 
the selfish classes in their enjoyment of idleness. Idle- 
ness dissipates every good quality of the human mind or 
body ; is in every way degrading; and one of the very 
last conditions of which a person should ever be proud. 

The pride of position or dignity, the haughtiness of 
race and caste, the aristocratic spirit, however exhibited, 
is not a feeling of very exalted nature. The purely 



114 ' VANITY AND PRIDE 

aristocratic disposition is best seen in some of the least 
advanced people, in fact next the very lowest. Most 
persons have seen, and have despised or ridiculed it, in 
the lovv^er grade white man or black. In all such people 
it is a relative virtue, aiding them to retain a position 
superior to what they formerly had. As their superiority 
is but little they must make the most of it, and cannot 
affor^ any appearance of letting down. With those of 
higher position or higher caste the case is the same. 
With all who exhibit the feeling there is a lack of mag- 
nanimity. Like the poor man who puts on the appear- 
ance of being rich, one must claim all he has a right to 
claim and more. As he gets higher or better he is less 
afraid of- being let down, and becomes magnanimous. 
Finally. he can lay aside dignity, and all affectation of 
worth, knowing well that he cannot lose the reality. 

There is another reason why the pride of aristocracy 
(not the aristocrats themselves) should be despised by all 
who have reached a true high-mindedness. The inferior 
in order of development are the superior in importance ; 
they are like the base on which a superstructure is reared, 
or the root from which grows the more highly developed 
stem of the plant. In the life of the individual or the 
race it is the latest development that can best be spared 
when that or the lower must go. The mental education 
can wait upon the physical. Th.Q Joundation being saved 
a new upbuilding may be accomplished. From the root 
of the plant a new stem may grow. From the lowest in- 
dustrial class in society the higher ones may arise. But 
take away the fundamental part and no higher develop- 
ment can ever exist. Thus while one part or one class 
has a superior evolution the other has a superiority in 
importance — in inherent value. Where then is the sense 
in one's despising the other? 

The mferior in development have their species of pride 
no less ; a pride not of superiority but of equality. Agree- 



VANITY AND PRIDE II5 

ably to the law that nothing can be known except 
through experience, they naturally have no consciousness 
of the superiority of others ; and can learn the fact con- 
sciously only through their own growth. The coarse 
body and brain, the awkwardness that goes with poorly 
developed or poorly controlled muscles, the imperfect 
vocal organs and pronunciation, the want of humane sen- 
sibility, and the slow apprehension of ideas, are all indi- 
cations of inferior development ; and if the subjects of 
them could learn this much it would help them vastly 
toward the attainment of something better. They can be 
taught to see a difference between themselves and others, 
and will be aided by any kind of teaching that points out 
in detail what it is that constitutes that difference. They 
have not reached the point where they can throw off 
their pride quickly after being instructed regarding the 
nature of it, but whatever enables them to realize their 
inferiority of development in some one or more respects 
helps enable them to believe in the possibility of it re- 
garding other things ; and thus by arousing a desire for 
improvement facilitates their moral progress. For, the 
love of equality — the desire to obtain an equal develop- 
ment and an equal happiness with that of the best — is one 
of the very strongest desires in human nature, and gives 
hope for the elevation of every one who can be con- 
vinced that he or she does not already possess it. 

There is a real and indisputable superiority of blood 
and of race ; but here also the superior has probably 
been produced from the inferior, and contempt is very 
much like despising one's parents after they have created 
and furnished the means by which the child has gained 
a superiority. 

One more species of pride remains, the very last to be 
given up. It is the feeling that self is entitled to credit 
for something ; that it is an individual separate from all 



Il6 VANITY AND PRIDE 

others, and can do something independently of all else. 
The Christian religionist meets this claim in a partial 
way by telling the individual he is nothing; that his 
salvation is wholly the work of a mediator ; that every 
good act or impulse is the work of the Holy Spirit and 
comes from above ; that in him is no merit ; that he can 
do or be nothing of himself but accept the truth and 
submit to be nothing. The scientist can reach him only 
by showing that all his commendable thoughts, feelings, 
words and actions originate in causes beyond his in- 
dividuality and his control ; that his imagined freedom 
and hence merit, is a delusion ; that he is more com- 
pletely nothing in the hands of Fate than he is said to 
be in the hands of God ; for he cannot even be free in 
choosing to be nothing. This I may endeavor to show 
in another essay. Assuming it to be possible, or assum- 
ing the religious doctrine to be true, this pride of indi- 
viduality and freedom is just as truly a fraud as any of 
the rest. When it is at last surrendered there comes the 
outgrowth of true humility or modesty, a virtue worth 
more to human happiness than a thousand kinds of 
pride. 

The pride of the intellect — conceit, bigotry, pride of 
learning or knowledge — and the pride of goodness, or 
self righteousness, are purposely omitted here, and re- 
served for separate chapters, in which they can have 
treatment more at length. 

All kinds of pride, we can now see, are arrogant and 
pretentious frauds. Not that proud people are conscious 
of such a quality in the thing, but it is none the less 
true. As long as the false claim is unquestioned pride 
flourishes. When vanity is hurt it is because a false 
reputation is shown to be false and then shame takes 
its place. When dignity is mortified it is because an 
individual has been holding a position higher than he 



VANITY AND PRIDE 11/ 

or she is entitled to. When the aristocratic spirit is 
humbled it is because the possessor of it shown to be 
so little above the despised ones that pretence of super- 
iority is ridiculous. The exception is only when a mis- 
take creates a wrong impression, and then the fall is 
not likely to be permanent. The very consciousness of 
pride (aside from satisfaction in a good thing) is itself 
the proof of a moral condition far from superior. The 
desire, the claim, the enjoyment of superiority — of being 
better, happier, more fortunate, more honored, more 
praised than another — for its own sake, is purely selfish, 
a desire for something others cannot have, and a wish 
to prevent their having it ; for certainly all are not ex- 
pected to have it at once. Exclusiveness is all that 
gives it a value. The very thought of ambition is thus 
corrupted with injustice. A moralized ambition can seek 
position or desire superiority only for its usefulness — for 
the ability it confers of increasing human happiness. A 
higher position, a greater honor, can be honestly, con- 
scientiously, unselfishly taken only when conferred un- 
sought, and used for the benefit of all. Real superiority 
is willing to be shared. 

In the Kingdom of The Unselfish there will be no 
pride. Every one will try to help his fellow realize the 
greatest usefulness his peculiar talents can achieve, as 
the means of giving him the most honor and the high- 
est position, as well as most happiness in other ways. 
Emulation, rivalry, competition will be dead ; and their 
place be taken by higher motives — aspiration, desire to 
perfect others — the artistic impulse, with humanity as 
the material of art. Distinction can be won only by 
discarding the desire for it, and substituting a desire for 
the elevation of the lower, and the promotion of the 
most worthy The highest will be that one who, in 
addition to all other fitness, shall be able to take the 
lowest position and do most gracefully any menial ser- 



Il8 VANITY AND PRIDE 

vice needing to be done. The ability to do this is the 
best evidence of that moral ability required at the head ; 
because the opposite disposition, which seeks position 
for its own sake, is immoral and selfish in desiring to 
take it away from others. Jesus expressed it clearly 
when he said, ** Let him who would be greatest among 
you be your servant." The effort will be to realize 
equality instead of inequality. Inequality will not then 
stand in the way of friendship. ''The ignorant," said 
some old Hindu sage, *'are not the friends of the wise, 
the man who has no cart is not the friend of him who 
has a cart. Friendship is the daughter of equality; it 
is never born of inequality." When, however, there is 
no pride to prevent the more developed from offering 
help to the less fortunate there will be no pride to pre- 
vent the acceptance of help; and so with free service 
and free acceptance there will be friendship and good 
will from this cause alone, in addition to all others. 

Here too, the modest and sensitive will find their 
opportunity. The cold haughtiness of wealth and posi- 
tion will not freeze them into silence and quiet as now; 
poverty and lack of outside finish will not hinder the 
appreciation of the inner qualities ; external accomplish- 
ments will be quickly put on under the encouragement 
of the unselfish friendly spirit, and with the impelling 
power of aspiration. 

As the unselfish spirit will give no offence by pride, 
neither will it by slight or disrespect. Respect will be so 
deep and sincere there will be little need to think of the 
external forms by which it is now expressed. The ut- 
most freedom and approachability will exist without im- 
politeness ever being intended or suspected. 

Now contrast this spirit and these anticipated results 
with the present effects of false pride — the caste feeling, 
the effort to Jieep up appearances, the disgrace of pov- 



VANITY AND PRIDE II9 

erty, the success of brass and pretension, the suffering 
from loss of wealth and social standing, the suicides from 
sudden ill fortune, the envyings of the unfortunate, the 
heartburnings and bitterness of defeated ambition — then 
believe if you can that all these evils are to last for thou- 
sands of years. But be assured of my strong faith that 
some of the better part of the race will begin very soon 
to put them away, and take on feelings of an opposite 
quality, in preparation for such a superior state as we are 
contemplating. 

What then is it that is to take the place of this false, 
hateful, selfish pride.? It is a true and honest self-re- 
spect, a consciencious self-respect, a self-respect that can 
be humble and rejoice in the strength of humility, de- 
pising arrogance, pretension, and aristocracy as unwor- 
thy a full-grown human soul ; a self-respect that will 
take pleasure in moral perfection, whose aspiration will 
be to be perfect as the ideal Father in Heaven is perfect ; 
which will strive to make the soul pure and true, and 
strong and brave, and clear and bright and beautiful with 
every quality that can add to human happiness ; and 
which, while rejoicing in every such acquirement, will do 
so without any particle of that pride that can be unpleas- 
ant to another. 



^* 




CHAPTER VI. 

INTELLECTUAL IMMORALITY. 



T>Y this phrase I do not mean a depravity or immor- 
■^ ality of the intellect itself, which may be said to al- 
ways do as well as it can ; but an immorality of the feel- 
ings, regarding the intellect, warping, twisting, perverting, 
repressing, confusing, and stultifiying its operations. 
Bigotry, prejudice, sophistry, illiberality, and inhospital- 
ity are some of the names by which it is known. There 
is still another, one not so well known, but it describes a 
fault altogether too common ; this is mental indolence, a 
sheer laziness of the brain. It afflicts all orders and con- 
ditions of people, even some who with their muscles are 
very industrious. Some have it when young and out- 
grow it mostly as they become older ; others are as in- 
capable of mental labor at sixty as they were at six. It 
indicates lack of development, and is one of the most 
difficult and hopeless to deal with of any of the mental 
faults. All of them are hard to overcome. They are 
perversities, evils, sins, even crimes ; equal in importance 
to the moral defects, and equally heinous in character — 
equally evil, villainous, and misery-producing in their 
effects. All too are selfish — disgustingly selfish, in their 
spirit, when clearly understood. Yet few condemn them 
as vices, though every one despises them in others while 
allowing them in himself. Very little is said or written 
against the moral quality of them by preachers and mor- 



IMMORALITY 121 

« 

alists, though their wickedness is visible at all times and 
places, and though the subject might be preached or 
written upon for months without overdoing. It is high 
time this species of immorality was dealt with according 
to its true character. 

To call these things evils or immoralities is alone 
equivalent to calling them selfish ; but to see more plainly 
that all of them are born from the selfish nature let us ob- 
serve how closely bigotry is connected with conceit. 
"My knowledge is so great, so correct, or so minute as 
to be sufficient ; and- my judgment is infallible ; your 
knowledge and judgment are inferior, false and worth- 
less." This is the true feeling of bigotry, and whoever 
will examine his or her own consciousness when the 
foolish or offensive notions of others are contemplated, 
will find some of that feeling. "Others are not as 
worthy or capable to form a correct opinion as I am ; 
their views are not entitled to as much respect as mine ; 
I will not give up mine to anybody. I can teach them 
something ; and if they were only honest and candid 
they would see as I do." This is the real spirit that al- 
most everybody has, and like other forms of pride it is 
full of arrogance and contempt. 

"But isn't anyone entitled to feel that his opinion is 
best.? " That depends upon how he has come by it. If 
the opposite view has been taken in the first place as 
equally probable, or if other conflicting notions have been 
considered as equally worthy till proved inferior ; if one 
and all have been looked at candidly and thoroughly, 
with a sincere determination, made in advance, to give 
up all preconceived ideas if necessary, and with the 
mind fully reconciled to that possibility, then the opinion 
arrived at is conscientious, and is justifiable till further 
evidence changes it. Otherwise it is not justifiable, nor 
is the claim of superior knowledge. 

But how many people take this course in forming 



122 INTELLECTUAL 

* 

their judgments? Not one in ten thousand. Do they 
ever contemplate a reversal of their present ideas as 
possible, and reconcile themselves to such a possibility in 
advance as if it were, already actual? Do they consider 
the opposite vi6w as equal to theirs, or the holders of it 
as equally worthy of respect with themselves? Not at 
all. They constantly hope and strive to find their pres- 
ent opinions confirmed ; and delude themselves with a 
promise that they will believe otherwise when the evi- 
dence comes. Their own side must have the benefit of 
every doubt, and not be affected by aught that can pos- 
sibly be turned aside or mitigated. Their minds are like 
a court in which the accused is .condemned before trial, 
and every effort made to convict him right or wrong. 
There is no more justice in one case than in the 
other. The opposing view is entitled to every allowance 
claimed for ours. When we are capable of giving it, and 
of thinking of what belon»-s to that as quickly as we 
think of what belongs to our favorite idea, then we are. 
capable of thinking honestly — not before. All the pride 
and the favoritism we naturally connect with our own 
view must be given up before the examination begins. 
The same self-renunciation required in any other sacrifice 
of pride, conceit, or arrogance is required in this ; and 
it cannot be too complete. 

Most people are familiar with the effects of religious 
bigotry in the form of persecution. I mention it less to 
accuse any particular religion than to remind ourselves 
of the vast amount of it that has come alike from most 
of the great religions ; the peaceful Buddhism, which ap- 
pears to have never resorted to it, being one exception ; 
and Parseeism, perhaps too sincere in its moral warfare 
against wrong to take up a physical battle against belief, 
being probably another. Both these were religions hav- 
ing a dominant moral motive. Brahmanism, Judaism, 



IMMORALITY 123 

Paganism (Roman), Christianity and Mohammedism 
have tortured and slain millions of human victims, caus- 
ing an unspeakable amount of agony to the race, yet 
scarcely can a solitary good be mentioned as resulting 
from it all, or associated with it. Even the lesson of its 
uselessness has been learned by only a few ; the danger 
of future persecution, and of religious strife, is not yet 
removed from Europe or America, so long as Jews are 
liable to loss of life from mobs, and freethinkers of all 
kinds are looked upon as immoral and dangerous. What 
a commentary this upon the natural selfishness, and 
stupidity of human beings ! Certainly it is no wonder 
the Christian world is confirmed in its belief of original 
sin and natural depravity. - 

This is the worst of the great sins of bigotry. But 
there are plenty of smaller ones. Conceit, self-right- 
eousness, ambition, or other vices have been more or less 
connected with them, but the main factor in the com- 
plex cause has been bigotry — the spirit that would not 
learn or listen. How much of the horrors of the French 
revolution might have been avoided had not the human 
masses in conflict been utterly possessed by this vile 
disposition. To come down to our own time and coun- 
try, there need be no hesitation in asserting that our 
nation was for twenty-five years prior to i860 governed 
by the worst elements in its population ; that they dis- 
graced its history for all time, and sacrificed thousands 
of innocent lives by the unjust conquest of Mexico, the 
allowance of slave smuggling, and the extension and en- 
couragement of slavery till the end came in a great civil 
war, mainly through the blind, obstinate bigotry of 
decent and respectable Northern men, who would not 
believe or listen to anything that reflected upon their ig- 
norant pride or partisan prejudices. I do not mean that 
their opponents were not bigoted, but that such results 
came from the bigotry of one party, and might have been 



124 INTELLECTUAL 

prevented by the candor and honesty of even a small 
proportion of the voters responsible for them. Why 
should not the feeling that induces such conduct, or 
rather which prevents better conduct, be hated and dis- 
graced equally with the disposition to murder, or slan- 
der, or steal ? The results are no better ; why should the 
cause be ignored or excused? 

See our political campaign for the last choice of a pre- 
sident (1884). Think of the immense expenditure of 
time and money, and breath and brain, in the effort to 
convert the small percentage of voters needed to turn 
the political scales. Yet how many were changed.? 
Only a few Irishmen and a few Independents, nearly all 
of whom would probably have changed without any 
effort at all. How senseless such a contest ! Partisan 
bigotry prevents any good from all this vast labor, ex- 
cept that perhaps the rising generation have learned a 
little something they might not have learned otherwise 
— a mere trifle many of them will forget before the next 
campaign. 

Look too, at the Christian world, or that part of it 
which has most life, divided up into numberless little 
sects, all alike spending their energies in defending or 
propagating their peculiar doctrines, and all incapable 
till lately of uniting in any good work, and now only 
partially, because of the estrangement resulting from 
bigotry in regard to these doctrines — doctrines as utterly 
empty and worthless for all practical purposes as chest- 
nut burrs of last year's growth. Even the heretical and 
socialistic sects and parties, that have been produced by 
the Protestant tendency, continue to despise and ha^e 
each other, with the same old bitterness of their pro- 
genitors. 

See how even in almost every little dispute or debate 
each of the contestants comes out with a firmer ad- 
herence to his own opinion than he had before ; while 



IMMORALITY • 125 

both parties have more or less ill-feeling, wounded pride, 
or positive hatred, instead of a closer approach to the 
actual truth that possibly lies somewhere between them. 

Think still further of the thousand and one petty diffi- 
culties arising- every day between husbands and wives, 
parents and children, relatives, friends, playmates, work- 
mates, neighbors — associates of every kind, because 
everybody has this disgusting conceit and unwillingness 
to learn of another — a contemptible pride that is nothing 
but pretension, claiming knowledge it does not possess, 
and an ability to form correct opinions when it has no 
such ability. Why should not every person who desires 
to be decently honest despise such a miserable fraud, 
and cast it utterly out of the mind? 

Narrowness, illiberality, and prejudice are simply 
other forms and names of the same selfish pride and 
ignorant conceit which is the essence of bigotry. One 
special manifestation of it requires a few words. It 
is that which takes the form of inhospitaliiy to new 
thoughts, discoveries, or inventions. To be inhospitable 
to a friend, or one in need of physical comfort, is 
acknowledged to be mean and reprehensible. But re- 
fusal to entertain thought or discovery, that may be of 
immense good to humanity, is not considered any 
offence ; it is stupid, of course, a long time afterward, 
when the new thing has gained a recognition, but noth- 
ing worse; nobody condemns the immorality of it; 
though the effect is the same as if every one knowing of 
the new comer in the world of thought had deliberately 
conspired to destroy it, intending to prevent the world's 
receiving its benefits. The devilish character of such a 
design, and the devilishness of a blind, stupid, bigoted 
rejection of new truth are in effect precisely the skme. 
The crime and the blunder are one, and it is the same 
mean spirit of perverse selfishness which permits one as 
much as the other. In that same spirit some of you 



125 * INTELLECTUAL 

who read may say that this is new doctrine and you have 
a right to reject it. New, or at least unfamiHar, it may 
be; but such a reason for rejecting- it is to ^.n honest 
thinker no excuse at all. 

The history of great inventions, of scientific discov- 
eries, of advancing thought in philosophy, shows how 
difficult and terribly slow has been the work of gaining 
hospitality for such new developments. Long years of 
patient waiting and suffering to the lone thinker in many 
cases, obloquy and contempt in others, final defeat and 
death before recognition in some, success and triumph 
in a few — these are the rewards that come to the highest 
human talent devoted to its highest work. This is what 
some are pleased to call the overruling of a divine wis- 
dom ; to any one who is willing to think honestly it means 
human selfishness in the form of bigotry. It is one of 
those great curses of ill-fortune that stand in the way of 
all development. 

Selfishness will even defeat its own interest for fear a 
wiser policy might be of benefit to some one else. This 
is not to be thought of; and any measure, policy, or 
suggestion that may appear favorable to others v/ill be 
refused all fair consideration. Persons are sometimes 
said to bite off their own noses out of spite ; and here 
out of envy or jealoilsy they refuse to learn what will be 
to their own advantage. It is a common stupidity, and 
can be easily seen in both* small aff'airs and great ones. 

The unwisdom of the good is scarcely less than that 
of the selfish and mean. Some of the most careful 
thinkers believe that the eff'orts of reformers and philan- 
thropists produce more harm than benefit. Certainly 
there is much evil mixed with the good they accompHsh. 
And universally their minds are one-sided. They assume 
their views and projects to be wholly good; those op- 
posed to them to be wholly false and evil. They over- 
estimate the importance of their various reforms and 



IMMORALITY 12/ 

hobbies, and thus become Jesuitical in advancing- them, 
setting them so high that unjust or doubtful means are 
considered justifiable in accomplishing a purpose. Their 
one idea is looked upon as the one great cause or cure of 
social or individual miseries, and no other is believed to 
be of any value. And thus nearly all reformers, some of 
whom think themselves to be progressive, come to be as 
bigoted as any of those whose bigotry they condemn. 

Some of the very best people, morally, persons who 
are sincerely conscientious so far as they know the 
right, and who if equally wisie would be prepared for a 
higher life, do by the rigid confinement of their thought 
within certain limits, shut out the very light that might 
lead them far toward a real heaven in place of the imagi- 
nary one for which they seek and hope. They have 
been taught bigotry from their childhood ; and any open- 
ing of the mind to new truth now is infidelity and sacri- 
lege. The very claim that such limitation of thought is 
necessary is itself suspicious and an evidence of weak- 
ness; yet it comes to be made by all religions, as the 
result of their being based on the authority of some reve- 
lation. In this way religion at length serves to defeat the 
moral progress that should he its one supreme end. The 
religious moralist becomes unprincipled in his thought, 
notwithstanding his desire to be moral. The founders 
of religions and sects do not teach men to learn from 
others. They are themselves not free from bigotry. 
"Learn from us only" is what they say or mean. All 
of which is the opposite of the final teaching, which will 
be. Learn from all — from any source whatever. 

These bigoted good persons are not the self-righteous 
in the ordinary meaning. The self-righteous are mostly 
those who are merely beginning in an upward course, 
and to whom goodness is so new, strange, and striking 
that it causes itself to be relatively overestimated. The 
state of mind is not favorable to learning ; but in that 



128 INTELLECTUAL 

stage of growth it may not be so advisable to stimulate 
new thought as to encourage the new feeling that has 
arisen. There is however, another phase of moral de- 
velopment, commonly called Phariseeism, a more ad- 
vanced stage, in which the person is truly moral and 
aspirational, and because he is so despises, and separ- 
ates himself from, all below him, becoming a sort of 
moral aristocrat. Even this style of goodness has yet 
something to learn from the very class it despises and 
shuns ; and whom, by avoiding or putting far away, 
it helps to still further discourage and degrade. The 
pharisee must yet carry to these debased ones the ac- 
knowledgment that they have suffered wrong as well as 
done wrong ; and the assurance that they are not to be 
forever deserted, or neglected, but assisted and taken 
along in company with the more fortunate into a better 
social state destined for all. And when met in such a 
spirit as this they will at least prove themselves to be 
more human than was supposed. 

One of the worst of all the forms of intellectual im- 
morality is the self-conceit springing from superficial 
knowledge. Like self-righteousness in the moral de- 
partment, a little knowledge at the beginning of the 
intellectual career makes a powerful impression on the 
before ignorant mind, by its constrast with the previous 
vacancy. Like all new experiences, it leads the person 
to overestimate its value and importance ; and judging 
by self, as all men do till experience has taught them 
better, he takes others to be like his own previous self, 
and assumes a present superiority. The feeling may 
be general, or may regard only some special kind of 
knowledge. Persons naturally modest will exhibit this 
consciousness of superior wisdom when they come to 
learn some new thing. And though they may continue 
to advance in the narrow path they are now going, it is 
almost impossible for them to learn anything outside of 



IMMORALITY 129 

it. So far as intellectual progress generally .s concerned 
they are stuck in a slough of conceit more difficult to get 
through than the Slough of Despond of old Bunyan's 
Christian. Indeed they have no desire to get beyond 
it. Believing themselves wise, and contented with a 
first installment of knowledge, how can they be other- 
wise than bigoted toward everything not in harmony 
with their own limited possession? 

In young people we must expect this and be patient 
with it. If they keep on in their first narrow path they 
will ere long come to another and may pursue that also. 
But many persons of fifty or sixty years are still nothing 
but boys and girls in this respect, and in their case the 
fault becomes disgraceful and demoralizing. They hard- 
en themselves into a set of notions that can only be 
changed by the most severe experience. They hinder 
the improvement of all around them, and keep back the 
advance of all knowledge and goodness. Their state of 
mind is as selfish and mean as that of the robber or 
thief. Not of course that they see it in that light, but 
that is the way they may see it perhaps, at a later stage 
of their progress. 

To illustrate, pious people will xCarn nothing out- 
side their church and sacred book, or even their special 
branch of the church. Respectable ones will take 
nothing unless it comes from inside their respectable 
clique ; and learned ones must first ascertain whether a 
person offering an idea is educated, and in what par- 
ticular school. Having got as far as they have they 
feel completely sated with wisdom, and anything more 
would make them sick. Some good observer has said 
that when a doctor of divinity has written a book, and 
put his ideas on record, it is time for him to die ; for he 
will never learn anything further. And though not true 
always, it is true generally, and true of many others 
besides doctors of divinity. 



130 INTELLECTUAL 

An obstinate and contemptuous skepticism of any- 
kind is a pretty sure indication of superficical knowledge, 
no matter if the victim of it professes science ; he has 
not yet acquired the true scientific spirit. 

Conceit, pride and intellectual stubbornness are not 
however to be condemned absolutely. In small and 
weak minds they are probably necessary to some extent, 
being like the silica which the grass or wheat plant de- 
posits in its outside layer, to stiffen it so it can stand 
alone, and grow up into the sunshine. When the mind 
becomes, through knowledge and practice, capable of 
standing alone, it no longer needs the protection of 
bigotry, or the defence of conceit and self-assertion. It 
is safe, and not afraid to venture out of its old home^.or 
its old familiar path of thought. Some will say its fear 
was needless. Of this I am not sure ; it may need con- 
siderable time to digest, appropriate, and get strength 
from, what it finds in one place, before taking new mate- 
rials from new sources. I am only sure that all these 
inferior qualities must be outgrown and cast off, before 
the mind can reach that state of complete unselfish- 
ness belonging to the new and higher condition of the 
man and of society. It behooves every one to at least 
put himself in the way of making an advance. 

There yet remains the serious fault of mental indo- 
lence, which as here referred to is a laziness of the mind 
in its thinking department. It may observe and memo- 
rize perhaps, but will not take the trouble to think. 
Dreaming, talking, sentimentalizing, is all easy enough ; 
reasoning alone is hard work. Multitudes of men and 
women drift into whatever religion or politics, medicine, 
society, or occupation may happen to be before them ; 
never troubling their heads ; living to eat, drink, and be 
merry ; and expecting to drift into heaven when they 
die ; for no other virtue than their stupid indifference. 



IMMORALITY I3I 

The bigg-est truth in the universe might be offered them, 
but would have no interest ; it would not tempt them 
into thought. They might be threatened with every 
kind of misfortune and ruin ; yet they would rather take 
the risk than learn to use their brains. 

The fault is common enough with men, but still more 
so with women. It is their great mental weakness. 
More than anything else it allows them to make mis- 
takes, to be confused, deceived, cheated and robbed. It 
is a misfortune to which they are born and from which 
few of them escape. They are often credited with a 
faculty called Intuition, assumed to be superior to the 
reasoning faculty, and able to make up for all deficien- 
cies. But this, so far as it is normal, and not some kind 
of mediumistic power, is in reality only a quick com- 
mand of all the mental resources, obtained through 
memory and observation. The business man, the hunt- 
er, the savage — any one accustomed to quick decision 
and action — has the same readiness of intuition. The 
abnormal species of intuition may sometimes be of use 
to women, but it is exceptional, and not always sure to 
be correct. 

Not to do women any injustice however, it must be 
admitted that a majority of the other sex exhibit the same 
immaturity of brain. They blunder along through a 
thoughtless life, some lucky enough to get through com- 
fortably, others the cheap victims of knavery, accident, 
and general misfortune. But I wish to impress upon 
women more especially the necessity of improvement 
here, because I believe they will find this fault their 
great impediment in attempting to reach that high goal 
that is set before them. Their pride, their ambition, their 
enmity, their luxury, their vanity even, they can over- 
come with less effort than men ; but their mental inert- 
ness, especially in middle life, with a weakened nerve 
svstem, will be a mountain of difficulty. Yet it is not at 



132 INTELLECTUAL 

all insurmountable. The difficulty is one that will lessen 
with every effort, while with every successful effort ad- 
ditional strength and energy will be gained. The mas- 
tery of one truth gives strength to the mind for the 
contest with one more obstinate. The contemplation of 
great subjects drives out small ones ; the habit of such 
thinking creates interest in such subjects, and taste for 
stronger thought, nobler work, and higher aspirations. 
There is no woman of good natural ability but can mas- 
ter if she will the grandest thought of the greatest men 
who have done great thinking. Women could not origi- 
nate it — at least never have done so — but when once 
invented or discovered, a great truth, like a great inven- 
tion in machinery, can be made comprehensible to any 
mind of good capacity. There is nothing to discourage 
women from undertaking anything they need to learn — 
nothing, that is, except their own present weak energies, 
or indisposition. 

In addition to all the blunders and generally vicious 
results of willfully refusing to think, there are those of 
thoughtlessness and careless ignorance, no less deplor- 
able. Being just as bad in their effects as the bad effects 
of design, why should they have less reprobation .? If a 
presidential election is lost by carelessness a vast number 
of people are ready to blame the offender without mercy. 
But when a railroad accident occurs, or a score or two 
of men are suffocated in a coal mine, or killed in a hun- 
dred other ways through somebody's careless failure to 
think, scarcely any one seems to consider it a very seri- 
ous matter. The loss of another person's life is of little 
account compared to the defeat of one's own selfish 
personal opinion, — is about the way it stands in the ordi- 
nary mind. This, it seems to me, is an entirely wrong 
view, and a wrong feeling. A blunder is equivalent to a 
crime, and the failure to think as reprehensible as the 



IMMORALITY I33 

failure to will. One is as properly punishable as the 
other. The results to society or to the individual are the 
same, and both are therefore equally wwsocial or z';;2moral. 
A more enlightened opinion will, I believe, hold them to 
be so, and a truly uuselfish person will no more cling to 
his intellectual faults than to those now called moral ; 
will no sooner excuse himself for the selfishness of con- 
ceit, ignorance, mental laziness, or bigotry than for the 
selfishness of desiring to rob, kill, or steal. Selfishness 
of disposition will be considered selfish without any ex- 
ception, and the consequences of it vice or crime. 

Nature's mode of dealing with all the weaknesses of 
the intellect is very simple, and is well known. It is 
given in that old proverb — ''Experience is a dear school, 
but fools will not learn in any other." The same idea 
has been expressed poetically : 

"Great truths are dearly bought, not found by chance. 
Nor borne upon the wings of summer dream ; 
But grasped in the great struggle of the soul, 
Hard buffeting with adverse wind and stream." 

All truth — all wisdom — is the product of experience ; 
what has come to us without our own experience has 
come from the experience of some one else. Part we 
obtain by experience in reality, part by experience in 
imagination. And lucky is the one who can learn from 
the experience of others, instead of going through it him- 
self This however refers to experience of evil or suffer- 
ing. Truth is equally learned by experience of good or 
happiness. The mind must be acted upon in some way 
— either drawn or driven — it will not move of itself If 
not attracted by the ideal picture of a higher happiness, it 
will be forced by the reality of a deeper suffering. Thus 
far in human history it has mainly had to be driven by 
suffering. It now remains to be seen if there are yet any 
who can be sufficiently attracted by the beauty and 



134 INTELLECTUAL 

glory of a higher ideal. If not, then the old experience 
of misery must still go on. 

There is yet however, one other mental weakness ; 
one that is common to minds of all grades, the educated 
and the ignorant, the feeble and the mighty, differing 
only in amount or degree among them all. What I 
mean now is the superstitious feeling or tendency — the 
disposition to discover superior truth or value in what is 
strange, mysterious, or incomprehensible — to imagine 
deep thought in some wonderfully complex sentence 
that nobody can understand ; to regard the stranger as 
superior to one who is well known ; to find something 
sacred, precious, or beautiful in an old book whose 
origin is hid in oblivion, or in some dark allegory no 
two can interpret alike ; and to reverence the ancient or 
"time-honored"' institution and custom. 

Of course the most fully developed and thoughtful 
mind has the least of this disposition ; but still there are 
very few who will not, other things equal, think better 
of the ancient or customary thing than of the new one ; 
and perhaps nobody but will have more respecf for the 
stranger than for one equally worthy who has always 
been known. 

There is no need of condemning this strange propen- 
sity ; every one, probably, will admit the foolishness of 
it, and yet no one attempts to cast it wholly out of the 
mind. This however, is one of the things that must be 
done before the highest truths can be learned, or the 
fullest moral advancement reached. The stranger must 
not be taken for a wise man, nor the prophet in his own 
country for a fool. Incomprehensibility is not to be 
taken for deep thought, nor pseud-ideas for solid truth, 
however wonderful or fascinating the language that sets 
them forth. Truth, and nobility of sentiment must be 
taken for just what they are, no matter how plain, sim- 



IMMORALITY 1 35 

pie, or humble their origin or expression. In no other 
way can truth have justice done to it, or man become 
able to learn all things. 

But moreover, there is a natural cause for intellectual 
perversity, aside from conceit, pride, stubbornness or 
inertness. There are opposite truths, opposite aspects 
of things, and opposite tendencies in the human mmd. 
The opposite phases of all movement have become recog- 
nized in scientific philosophy under the name of the 
Rhythm of Motion, (see Spencer's First Principles) or 
more familiarly as universal Action and Reaction. The 
same character of oppositeness or polarity may extend to 
objects as well as movements. Day and night, summer 
and winter, are produced by the rhythm of the earth's 
motions. But the ice of the poles, and the heat of the 
tropics, are results, not of the earth's movement, but of 
its form and the stationary direction of its axis ; they 
belong to the thing itself. For aught w^e can yet say 
there may be a similar oppositeness in all the qualities 
of things whether in motion or at rest. The mind, too, 
has many qualities that are antithetical, besides opposing 
views and judgments. Some individual mind is always 
ready to take the opposite side. Unfortunately the con- 
trasting views are taken by different persons. With very 
few exceptions, the individual mind has never become 
so polarized within itself that it could willingly, and for 
truth's sake, look calmly at the side opposite that where 
its gaze is first fixed. The first view is likely to be an 
exclusive one : that one is considered wholly true, the 
antagonistic one is wholly false. Being a pure as- 
sumption, as this notion is, it is amazing how the great 
majority of people will obstinately ignore all evidence 
favoring a contrary opinion ; closing their eyes to plain 
facts, and denying testimony that, but for their prejudice, 
would be entirely reliable. Notice how frequently when 



136 INTELLECTUAL 

a statement of opinion is made an opposition to it im- 
mediately springs up ; and how earnestly a dispute 
about nothing will be carried on till bad feeling is ar- 
rived at, but rarely an agreement. Many persons will 
be even impolite in their undue haste to oppose some- 
thing they hear said. Others would oppose but for some 
reason of prudence. A few are inclined to admit some 
truth on the part of their opponents ; but the general 
tendency is so clearly a disputatious one that it might 
serve for a good proof of natural depravity, as it is in 
fact a good illustration of the native selfishness. 

To say that this disposition is morally wrong because 
of its quarrelsome spirit, is only a truism. But to see 
how it is intellectually wrong, after admitting that a 
universal polarity in thought and things is possible, may 
not be so easy. The trouble is that the individual mind 
is not polarized in its thinking, so that it can look in op- 
posite directions of its own motion, without the aid or 
compulsion of other minds. It needs to learn that be- 
cause one doctrine or set of ideas is true, the other is not 
always necessarily false, evil, or hostile. There are truths 
and theories which are complimentary to each other, each 
necessary to the whole truth, and both in harmony when 
the whole truth is known. Scientific men are already 
somewhat disposed to learn this. Mr. Spencer especi- 
ally, is inclined to see reconciliations ; while all men of 
wide information come to discover the possibility of 
them, and are therefore less exclusively attached to one 
idea. This sort of liberality is likely to increase with in- 
creasing knowledge, and likewise the number of com- 
plementary truths, till finally we reach a complete 
harmony ; the really contradictory, erroneous or delusive 
notions being of course eradicated. 

The feeling then, which prompts to the present quarrel- 
someness ought to be put aside, squelched, extinguished; 
and in place of it should be acquired a willingness to 



IMMORALITY I 3/ 

learn, and to accept a possible harmonious truth in the 
idea which at first seems so antagonistic to our own. 
Still more than this we should do ; we should try volun- 
tarily to make acquaintance with that which is opposed 
to us, to find if there be in it a truth that can be made 
accordant with ours. To be willing to accept it when 
forced upon us is not enough ; we should seek for it our- 
selves before it is pressed upon our attention. 

And this is precisely the spirit that will characterize all 
the mental operations in that new world of the Unselfish, 
that Empire of the Wise, now about to make its appear- 
ance, and like the little stone in the prophet's vision, to 
^row, till in the coming centuries, it fills the whole 
earth. There can be no complete heavenly condition 
till there is a scientific philosophy at the bottom of all 
thought, which will command universal acceptance, 
from which all can reason, and by which all can be per- 
suaded and led. However angelic persons may be in 
their feelings, however well-disposed toward contrasting 
views, unless there is a common intellectual ground- 
work there will be lack of entire sympathy, there will be 
some shadow of estrangement, while their agreement in 
moral purposes will cause a perpetual sadness of some 
degree concerning the intellectual disagreement. Moral 
goodness alone, in the ordinary sense, cannot suffice ; 
there must be an intellectual guidance capable of laying 
foundations on which all can unite, and by means of 
which an agreement in minor truths and details can be 
secured. Having this the unselfish development will 
gradually induce all thought as well as feeling into a 
complete unity. 

Fortunately I can say, with fullest confidence of being 
correct, that the carrying of the unselfish feeling into all 
the thought, as here insisted upon, w^ill bring forth that 
universal basis as surely as daybreak brings the sunrise. 
The moralized intellect will discover the highest truth. 



138 INTELLECTUAL 

If it shall prove to have that polaric quality that has here 
been assumed as probable, then there will be a remark- 
able confirmation of such a philosophy in the fact that it 
leads towards peace, conciliation and friendship, where 
the old assumptions and methods tend to discord, hatred 
and strife ; one producing a moral result, in place of the 
immoral result perpetually wrought by the other. 

In the new intellectual Empire mental indolence will 
be unknown. Every person will be animated by a sub- 
lime curiosity to know all the great secrets of the uni- 
verse, and an intense desire to become acquainted with 
all the myriad forms of activity, life and use upon the 
surface of the earth, and within and around it. Every 
accomplishment and grace that can add attractiveness 
to the individual, and give pleasure to others will be 
undertaken and learned with an ardor such as we rarely 
see, stimulated by conscientious and noble purposes. 
Every one will Stand ready to assist the weaker, the less 
fortunate, the less advanced, the least attractive, to bring- 
them up to an equality of development with the more 
favored. The sensitive, the unassuming, the neglected, 
if they only possess the moral quality, will there find 
a home, and will realize a bond of union which no 
difference of worldly conditions, of education or accom- 
plishment can break. In the spiritual sunshine of its 
atmosphere they will put on brightness, beauty and 
grace like chilled and stunted plants transferred to the 
rich, warm soil of the sheltered garden. No lack of sym- 
pathy from kindred minds will there sadden and blight 
the soul hungering and thirsting for knowledge, good- 
ness and beauty ; for there all will be aspiring after 
every kind of perfection, and determined to achieve it. 
They willhave reached that stage of human evolution 
when such motives and purposes have become the domi- 
nant ones of their lives. And though an absolute per- ' 



IMMORALITY 1 39 

fection can never be attained, they will be pressing 
forward at a rapid pace, and all the great essentials of a 
perfect character will be acquired much sooner, perhaps, 
than any one can now believe. No one will have any 
idle time, there will be no ennui, no repression, no lack 
of opportunity or field for exertion ; for every one will 
find his or her natural place, and in getting into it will 
have the assistance of every one else. 

In that new world of thought and feeling there will be 
no willful blindness, no pride of opinion, no ignorant 
conceit, because there will be no selfishness. But there 
will be independence ; and no doctrine, law, custom or 
sentiment will escape criticism, or be of any validity 
without good reason behind it. Yet with this, again, 
will be no pride of originality, or ownership in ideas ; no 
claim of any credit for thought, which comes as the re- 
sult or product of all previous thought. Looked upon as 
the effect of causes, there will be no lack of charity for 
immature and inconsistent thinking ; neither will there 
be any effort to force ideas upon an unwilling mind, 
or urge it beyond its natural rate of growth, through 
the arrogance of superior knowledge or new-found wis- 
dom, not yet sufficiently wise or moralized. The advice 
Buddha is said to have given his disciples is expressed 
in the true unselfish tone. 

"Take heed that no one, being 'scaped from bonds, 
Vexeth bound souls with boasts of liberty ; 
Free are ye rather if your freedom spread 
By patient winning and sweet wisdom's skill." 

There, instead of disputes over words and quibbles, 
will be found persons of previously antagonistic views 
striving candidly to learn from each other, and to find 
the cause of their old disagreements, that it may be re- 
moved by a completer knowledge. There, instead of 
people ever ready to talk and anxious to display, will be 
seen those more ready to listen than to talk, and unpre- 



I40 INTELLECTUAL 

tentious enough to take a hint from any child. A novel 
sight truly, this will be, the desire to talk, to dispute, to 
teach, all gone ; swallowed up in the new and stronger 
desire to learn, to think, to grow ; drowned and forever 
extinguished in sober meditation and the calm, steady 
earnestness of an honest intellectual purpose. 

But, let me again repeat, before one gets as far as this, 
and in order to reach, accept and take in that central or 
fundamental truth that is to be associated with it, or in- 
deed any important truth short of that, the mind must 
be qualified to do some noble work. It must think great 
thoughts, and become to a good degree capable of think- 
ing clearly, critically, exactly, and above all justly. The 
weakness of the lazy brain is to be outgrown ; careless- 
ness to be corrected by earnest thoroughness; prejudice 
and bigotry to be put under foot forever ; the pride that 
refuses to acknowledge ignorance or mistake to be dis- 
carded for manly honesty ; and the shallowness of con- 
ceit displaced by wider knowledge. Actual opinions 
and doctrines are to be treated as facts having reasons 
or causes to be investigated and understood. The most 
repulsive of them is to be looked at squarely in the face, 
with a sincere desire to discover whatever of truth or 
beauty may appear in it to other minds, and with a firm 
determination in advance to accept all that may be 
found worthy. The conservative has to learn from the 
progressive and vice versa ; the scientist from the re- 
ligionist, and the religionist from science ; the socialist 
from the individualist, and assuredly the friends of the 
present order must not long hesitate to learn some- 
thing from the socialist. No matter how dreadful the 
ideas of either one of these may be, there is no escape 
from them except through honest, unselfish thought. 
And whatever the subject, of any sort, that may come 
before the mind, the timidity that dares not trust the 



IMMORALITY I4I 

reason fully must be forever displaced by that strength 
and confidence of judgment that will follow, and abide 
by, the conclusions of the reason to the utmost limit 
they can be drawn. 

Scientific knowledge and teaching is to take the first 
place instead of traditional. The body of science we 
already possess is the foundation work of all that is to 
be added to it; and if the view of this book is correct 
it is the elementary part of all our future intellectual 
possessions. A careful and earnest study of it is the 
necessary first step toward the formation of reliable 
judgments, toward the moralization of intellect, and 
toward the acquisition of that culture which is indispen- 
sable to the new moral and intellectual condition we are 
contemplating. Without such an acquaintance with 
science one is sadly unprepared for the brain work of 
even the present time. The coming century, more truly 
than any other, is to be an age of revolutions ; of revolu- 
tions in thought and in manner of thinking, as well as in 
many other things besides. In these days of swift com- 
munication the intellectual world is advancing so rapidly 
that few know how far it has already gone toward the 
opposite point from which it started — away from the 
traditions and speculations in which its movement be- 
gan. Most of us get little information concerning the 
thinkers in the advance of this movement, who are plant- 
ing the seed thoughts out of which new evolutions and 
revolutions are to come. Only one who searches out, 
and becomes familiar with, this most advanced thought 
can judge from the signs of the times, understand new 
facts and events, or adapt himself to coming changes. 

To all those who dread to think of some outrageous 
set of ideas, repulsive to all their present feelings, wheth- 
er prejudices or convictions, I wish to commend one 
little story or fable of the medieval times, and to assure 
them that as a parable it is true, that it is scarcely ex- 



142 INTELLECTUAL 

travagant, that the mental operation suggested by it 
has an outcome but little less joyful to the courageous 
thinker than that of the story to its courageous knight. 
It is the subject of one of the poems of Paul H. Hayne. 

"The poem takes us back in imagination to the time 
when the Normans ruled in Sicily. A goodly ship sailed 
from Cos to Smyrna in the loveliest season of the year, 
and, passing many palm-covered islands, whose odors 
were wafted on the soft breezes to those on the ship, 
they became intoxicated with enjoyment, and sank into 
a delicious, dreamy repose, while the vessel drifted on 
whither she would, as the currents caught her. Among 
the passengers was Avolio, a gentleman well skilled in 
arms as well as learned in the arts and sciences. He 
persuaded his companions to land on the perfumed isles 
and explore their mysteries. They went ashore, and 
strayed about, passing from one delight to another. 
Suddenly they saw before them an elevated piece of 
ground, covered with dark and dismal trees. Every- 
thing around grew hideous and gloomy. The com- 
panions of Avolio fled in terror from the dreadful spot, 
while he, spell-bound, could not fly, but was impelled 
to move onward On, on, he was urged, until he found 
himself before a towering gateway, where stood a dismal 
mansion, buried in gloomy ivy. From this house issued 
an immense serpent 

"Which showed its fiery fangs, and hissed in the gleam 
Its own fell eyeballs kindled." 

The monster quickly disappeared, and again appeared, 
having the same shape, but changed in aspect. Avolio 
demanded in the name of God what it was and why it 
came in such "questionable shape;" when 

"A voice, thin and low, 
Broke like a mudded rill : ' Bethink thee well ! 
This isle is Cos, of which old legends tell 



IMMORALITY I43 

Such marvels. Has thou never heard of me — 

The island's fated queen ? 

Foul as I am, there was a time, Oh ! youth ! 

When these fierce eyes were fonts of love and truth ; 

There was a time when woman's blooming grace 

Glowed through the flush of roses in my face ; 

When, — but I sinned a deep and damning sin, — 

I cursed the great Diana ! I defied 

The night's immaculate goddess, argent-eyed, 

And holiest of immortals ! I denied 

The eternal night which looks so cold and calm — 

Therefore, O, stranger! am I what I am !'" 

She went on to tell Avolio that she must remain a ser- 
pent forever, unless she should meet some man, braver 
than Ajax, who would kiss her on the mouth, and thus 
break the spell and restore her to her former shape. 
Avolio was touched by her story, and after receiving a 
solemn assurance that he should not become the victim 
•of a plan arranged for his destruction, 

'' He signed the monster nearer, closed his eyes. 

And with some natural shudderings, some deep sighs, 

Gave up his pallid lips to the foul kiss. 

What followed then ? — a traitorous serpent hiss. 

Sharper for triumph.? O ! not so, he felt 

A warm, rich, clinging mouth approach and melt 

In languid, loving sweetness on his own. 

And two fond arms caressingly were thrown 

About his neck 

He raised his eyes, released from brief despair — 
They rested on a maiden tall and fair — 
Fair as the tropic morn when morn is new ; 
And her sweet glances smote him through and 
through." 

The Queen of Cos became ^t/o/Zo's bride, and the bold 
lover had no cause to regret his courage." 

This horrid monster is what every sectarian and par- 
tisan sees in his opponents — what every religionist be- 
holds with terror in the infidel, and the freethinker looks 
upon with hate in the religionist ; what opposing politi- 
cians imagine each other to be ; what the conservative 



144 INTELLECTUAL IMMORALITY 

sees in the radical and the radical in the conservative ; 
whose very ugliest features appear in the socialist as he 
is viewed by the man of wealth, position, and power, 
while to him the man of wealth and power is scarcely 
less repulsive. There is no way to destroy the hideous 
thing, and nothing remains but to face it fairly and 
squarely, look it full in the eyes, and come in contact 
w4th it where it appears the worst. While you look 
every feature will gradually soften and change ; before 
long you begin to see beauty where before was ugliness ; 
and at last the repulsive features have so far disappeared 
that you are surprised at the beauty of what remain. 
The transformation will not in all cases be as great as 
that in the poet's dream ; but it will be enough to make 
you rejoice that you took the courageous course. For 
one I can testify that the choicest truths I have ever 
learned have been acquired in this manner, and that to 
me the fearful mons^^er has become a creature of beauty 
and joy that will remain with m.e forever. 

For all young people who have reached the age when 
they begin to think, to reason, to criticise, the lesson is 
especially suitable ; and is not amiss for older ones who 
have not yet by mental slavishness stultified their brains, 
and become ready to fly at the first appearance of dan- 
ger. Whatever the doctrine of any body of men, whose 
character is above the level of downright crime, no one 
need fear to investigate it, if he is conscious of being 
honest in his own soul. 



CHAPTER VII. 

CONCEIT AND SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS. 



THROUGH all modern time, and how far back I 
cannot say, moralists, and especially religious 
moralists, have held the idea and taught it to the com- 
mon people, that all moral or immoral conduct implied 
what they called freedom of the will. The person must 
be a "free moral agent," capable of doing one thing as 
easily as another, or at least as truly capable of doing 
either, else he is not properly punishable or rewardable 
for conduct. This doctrine has become the generally 
accepted standard of Christendom, by which nearly 
everybody condemns or excuses an offender. It has 
also happened at the same time that certain fatalistic 
religious doctrines required man not to have a complete 
freedom of choice, and hence millions of pages have 
been printed, and millions of brains tortured, to settle 
the question of the absolute freedom of the individual 
mind. Scientists, as well as religionists, have taken a 
hand in the discussion. The greater part of the religious 
world have argued for freedom, because it was thought 
necessary in order to justify the ways of God to man. 
The believers in science have more generally taken the 
opposite view, and in the physiology and pathology of 
the brain have found more evidence against the notion 



146 CONCEIT AND 

than for it. The latest book on one side claims that man 
is a creative first cause like the original creator ; the 
latest scientific works show more plainly than ever be- 
fore that the human brain, like everything else in the 
universe, is the subject of cause, and in its operations 
mianifests law. 

Now, as there is some confusion in the common mind 
regarding these matters, if we can go back to the begin- 
ning, and trace the gro.wth of ideas, we shall get a better 
understanding of where we are, and perhaps of where 
we ouofht to be. 

I have previously shown that ovigmsLlly Jus/ice consists 
of two ideas, one the conception of equality, the other of 
revenge; though revenge also implies equality of a- cer- 
tain kind, that is, the satisfaction of making another 
person suffer as much as we have suffered from him. 
When punishment of crimes by law began it was to take 
revenge out of the hands of the individual sufferer, who 
had always taken satisfaction himself, or if killed had 
been revenged by his relatives (very much as some of 
the people in Kentucky and the southern states still do) 
in order that the state and the law might more effectively 
and surely revenge and protect the weak against the 
strong. Revenge is still the main object of the law's 
punishment ; that is, while it aims to protect society, it 
does so by a punishment that will deter the offender 
from further crime, just as the individual himself Vv^ould 
do by his own revenge. The popular feeling that de- 
mands punishment is also a revengeful one. Except 
with boys and girls to. some extent, the state makes 
very little effort to reform the criminal by educating him, 
or in any way changing his nature. If he is deterred by 
suffering that is considered enough, though at heart he 
may be as criminal as before. And here mark the point, 
that it is because men are conscious of having no justi- 
fication for taking revenge on the criminal unless he is a 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS I47 

free agent, 'that' they insist on his being free. If not free, 
but compelled to do wrong, no one wishes to be re- 
venged. If not free they are uncertain what to do with 
him (unless he be insane) for they have not yet become 
generous enough to think of shutting him away from 
society for the sake of educating and reforming him. 
Neither do they know they could affofd to do such a 
thing. The religionist too, especially the one who has a 
perpetual hell ready to catch the criminal after death, 
feels awkward when called upon to justify it, if man is 
not as free to do good as evil, and capable of doing 
either. So the churchman, as well as the jurist, has an 
object in insisting upon freedom of choice. 

But there is a reason stronger yet why both these par- 
ties, and all the rest of us, are disposed to believe in the 
free-will doctrine; and that is that it justifies our 
own self-righteousness. If we are not all free, what 
right have we to feel supercillious toward all the poor 
wretches we call depraved and vile? Are we not better 
than they because we chose to be better, of our own free 
will, when we might have chosen otherwise.'* Oh, Yes, 
that is a very pleasant notion, and allows us to feel 
sanctimonious ; it gives us a right to despise the crimi- 
nal, and all the unfortunate, to shun them or hold our- 
selves aloof when they need help, encouragement, sym- 
pathy or instruction. What if they do keep going down 
lower and lower all the time, and becoming more and 
more unhappy.? Didn't they choose to go down hill 
while we chose to go up .? And so haven't we a right to 
feel our superiority because we got it ourselves ; and a 
right to despise them for not choosing to have it ; and 
a right to leave them alone in their wickedness and 
misery .? 

Yes, that is very flattering; but cannot any one see 
that it has the spirit of hell; that if every one had always 
possessed that spirit no charity would ever have blessed 



148 CONCEIT AND 

the world ; that no steps would ever have been taken to 
relieve present suffering or prevent any for the future ; 
or if done done with the I-am-holier-than-thou feeling, 
and produced no effect ; that Jesus never would have 
associated with publicans and sinners ; that no Mag- 
dalens would have been saved ; no drunkard, no crim- 
inal would ever have been offered the hand of sympathy, 
and aided to recover his lost place in society ? On the 
contrary, what sort of spirit is it that does such things as 
these ? It is one born of the consciousness that we our- 
selves may be liable to stumble and fall, or that we have 
done so already, like the unfortunate ones we are trying 
to help ; that we are not so much better than they ; that 
circumstances do decide us to act better or worse in spite 
of all our power of will and self-control. 

Here then, are the governmental influence, the re- 
ligious influence, and the promptings of our own conceit, 
all united to maintain this old doctrine of a free will 
against any contrary view brought forward by a more 
scientific age. It seems to me plain that it belongs to 
the selfish side of human nature; that selfishness clings 
to it as a justification for selfishness ; as a good reason 
for refusing charity ; as an excuse for hard-heartedness, 
brutality and cruelty; as an apology for leaving the 
poor in their poverty, and the criminal in his crime. 
The moralist, it is true, claims it to be necessary in order 
to hold men to their duty, and that therefore his motive 
is not selfish ; yet at the same time it is made to justify 
punishment, and the desertion of the offender. There- 
fore it is selfish ; for the unselfish disposition does not 
desert the offender in his sins ; it clings to him till the 
last hope of reformation is gone. So, even in the best 
case the motives are mixed ; and I must still repeat that 
the doctrine is one adapted to please all the selfish in- 
stincts — those of revenge or punishment, indifference 
and indolence, conceit and self-righteousness. 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS I49 

Before bring-ing- considerations against this dogma, it is 
well to state that it is not now held with the rigidity of 
former times. So far as can be learned from condensed 
statements, its friends do not exclude motives as causes, 
or try to get beyond cause ; but in some way there is a 
substantial freedom claimed in spite of motives or 
causes. Even the author of "Man a Creative First 
Cause" does not try to ignore science, or deny the effect 
of motives. But this is only to say that these people 
have learned from science, and their former views have 
been thereby modified ; in other words, there has been 
progress. 

Still, however, so far as actual freedom is claimed at 
all, it must be as something uncaused. If one can make 
a choice without any predominating motive to influence 
him in either direction, then that choice is an effect with- 
out cause, .a result that is not produced. Of course the 
words are absurd, but so is the idea. However much 
the liberty may be refined away, and however much 
may be allowed as the effect of motives, yet if anything 
at all is done or decided in pure freedom it is without 
any cause ; it is a choice without any motive, or with no 
one motive stronger than another. From one of these 
conditions it must spring forth, either from a perfect 
balance of motives, or from no motive at all ; otherwise 
it is not a free choice. Nobody can conceive how a de- 
cision or action can came forth from no motive, nor any 
more can one conceive of its coming forth from a perfect 
balance of motives. Both are equally impossible. What 
then remains .? Only to admit that when we seem to our- 
selves to be conscious of ability to decide in either one 
of two or more ways, then the motives impelling us are 
nearly equal, in strength. When they are various and 
confused, neither one strong enough to determine us 
against the rest, then we hesitate, and think, and think, 
and think, till finally appears some new motive, or new 



150 CONCEIT AND. 

knowledge, that is a reason for deciding, and we make a 
choice ; we are determined by that new influence at last 
If the motives are all or nearly all on one side then we 
are determined instantly when occasion arises, or even 
decided in advance. 

To those who are already determined to talk or think 
about what a man can do if he will, it can only be said 
that that has nothing to do with the question. It is not 
what he can do after he wills but before he wills. If he 
wills, or has a mind to, he can do almost anything, if he 
doesn't break his neck in doing it, or meet with some 
other bad luck before it is accomplished. 

But before one wills or makes up his mind every one 
else practically acknowledges that a choice will be de- 
termined by motives as causes. Therefore they bring 
various inducements to bear in one way or another, 
never doubting that if they can bring- one . sufficiently 
powerful the determination .will be as they wish. The 
motives may be bad or good, and in either case they 
estimate how strong the opposing ones are likely to be, 
and act accordingly. If a small- temptation will decide 
a choice they do not offer a large one. If they know a 
person is liable to be tempted, but wish him to stand 
firm, they bring inducements to strengthen him as he is. 
Everybody without exception, from the little child to the 
oldest man or woman, acts in every-day life upon the 
assumption that man is no more free in his choice than 
a dog or a horse. Whatever they believe, when they 
come to act they act upon the theory that man is subject 
to cause and effect, and his choice the result of a com- 
bination of forces called motives, feelings, reasons, in- 
ducements, influences, views, education, etc. That is 
the way common sense gets the better of one's belief or 
speculation. 

It is only when the propensity to blame, to punish, or 
to destroy comes into action, and we wish to justify 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS 15I 

that, that we resort to the free-will notion. We then use 
it as an excuse for selfish action toward others. But on 
the contrary, when we are blamed or punished our- 
selves, we always manage to find extenuating circum- 
stances. It is others, not ourselves, who might have 
done right as easily as not. 

A doctrine put to bad uses becomes suspicious. And 
in this ordinary use of it to justify selfish action toward 
others we may see the true character of the Free Will 
dogma. It is selfish and born of selfishness. ' To con- 
demn or punish for revenge it furnishes an excellent 
excuse. To justify the fiendish vindictiveness of an 
eternal hell it was necessary to the old theologian. But 
when we blame or punish for the reformation of the 
offender there is no need of any free will theory to jus- 
tify our action. 

The whole make-up of the human organism is against 
this old doctrine, to prove which I will present an argu- 
ment from the anatomy and physiology of the nervous 
system. As all well-informed people in these days 
know, the nerves of sensation from the surface of the 
body, below the head, and from the internal parts also, 
pass from their origin to the spinal cord, thus forming 
one side of the cord or spinal marrow, and all together 
at the top pass into the brain. Those from the head and 
face join the same bundle after it gets inside the skull. 
The sympathetic or vegetative system, which carries on 
the nutrition of the body, likewise sends some of its 
fibers to unite with the same great bundle. After receiv- 
ing all that come from every part, and being joined by the 
optic and olfactory in front, and by the auditory behind, 
the whole together pass through two small bodies at the 
base of the brain called the optic thalami, and from these 
the fibers spread out again, and radiate to every part of 
the outside of the brain. The outside or grey matter of 



152 CONCEIT AND 

the brain is a thin mass of nerve cells, and in the outside 
layers of these cells the sensitive fibers appear to termi- 
nate. All these brain cells, which are supposed to be 
somewhat like minute electrical battery cups, have their 
own minute fibers, passing off from the outside to con- 
nect them with others in every direction, and uniting 
the whole mass of grey matter in one complex solidarity. 
From the lowest or inmost layers of cells there go fibers 
that radiate or converge from the whole outside of the 
brain back again to two small bodies at the base called 
the striated bodies, situated close to the optic thalami, 
through which the bundle of sensitive nerves passed 
before radiating to the surface. These fibers however, 
that have converged back from near the outside of the 
brain to near the same local center at the base, are not 
sensitive but motor nerves, by which the muscles are 
made to act. Being all brought together here in the 
striated bodies, they then pass out of the skull into the 
spinal cord, and form another part of it through its entire 
length. Fibers are sent off to the face from inside the 
skull, and from some thirty different centers along the spine 
at the points where sensitive ones came in, all of them 
going to muscles in the same locality where the corre- 
sponding sensitive ones took rise. I speak of their taking 
rise, passing to the brain and back, and ending in the 
muscles, not because that indicates the present manner 
of their growth, but because the currents of nerve motion 
that pass over them take that course. Otherwise stated, 
the two sets of fibers run side by side from all parts of 
the body to the optic thalami and corpora striata at the 
base of the brain, and after being separated there we find 
them again in parallel radiations to the grey matter at 
the outside. 

This is the simplest outline of the system. There is 
really some slight indirectness in following out the plan, 
and there are cross connections between the hemispheres 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS 1 53 

and various other parts of the brain, besides some fibers 
that have not yet perhaps been fully traced, or their exact 
functions ascertained. 

The cerebellum or back brain is substantially like the 
front brain in its arrangement. Part of the sensitive 
fibers leave the main bundle soon after entering the 
cranium, and from this point they radiate or are distrib- 
uted to all the outside parts or grey matter of the cere- 
bellum. From the same gray matter the motor fibers 
converge to a center and join the main bundle of motor 
cords passing down into the spine. It is thus a smaller 
brain, connected probably with the cerebrum, but able 
to perform its functions independently. 

A sensation then, as a general fact, travels from the 
surface where it occurs, through the sensitive fibers to 
the cord, up the cord to the optic thalami, and from there 
to some part of the outside matter of the brain, where it 
may spend itself as feeling, with no other result ; or it 
may start an impulse backward in the motor nerves that 
will cause muscular motion in the part where the sensa- 
tion came from ; or result in any one of a thousand 
possible movements, external or internal. 

But I will quote from the physiologist a more de- 
tailed and definite description. It is from Letourneau's 
* 'Biology." 

"We can thus follow" he says "along its whole 
anatomical career, and in all its physiological metamor- 
phoses, the impression received by the terminal extremity 
of a sensitive nervous fiber. If, for example, a hard 
body strikes violently any part of the cutaneous envel- 
opment, the molecules of the nervous fibers, harshly 
touched, enter from point to point into vibration ; the 
shock communicates itself first of all to the cells of the 
spinal marrow, then to those of the optical layers, then 
to the cells of the cerebral convolutions. * * On 
reaching the superficial cells of the convolutions the 
shock, the vibration, the molecular movement, whatever 
may be the form thereof, awakens m these cells an alto- 



154 CONCEIT AND 

gether special phenomenon of consciousness or sensa- 
tion. But we are only yet at the half of the circuit. The 
sensitive cells which have incurred the shock communi- 
cate it in their turn to the subjacent cellular strata. 
These, last cells, a little larger than the superficial or 
sensitive cells, a little smaller than the deep or motory 
cells, are probably the thinking cells. In these the 
molecular shock is transformed into ideas. The en- 
semble of these thinking cells constitutes the soul of the 
organism. They take account of the causes of pain, 
combine the means of preventing its return, and their 
decision communicated to the deepest cortical layers is 
there metamorphosed into volitions. In effect the deep 
cells of the cortical layers are motory or rather volitive. 
They ordain the muscular movements necessary to pre- 
vent the return of the painful shock and to ward off 
danger. The command is transmitted along the con- 
vergent central fibers, then through the cells of the 
striated bodies, and of the spinal marrow. Finally from 
the motory cells of the peripheric nervous cords this 
command arrives at the muscles charged to execute it. 
The cycle is then complete, and the mechanical stimu- 
lation of the extremities of some sensitive nervous fibers 
has, like a succession of gun-discharges, determmed a 
sensation, a ratiocination, a volition, and movement." 
(Am. ed. pp. 386-7.) 

But not always does the reactive or motor impulse 
wait for a command to come from the brain. There are 
gray cells all through the spinal cord, and centers in it 
where the telegram seems to be taken off the wire, and 
a motor dispatch sent back before the brain has time to 
accomplish it. If your fingers get pricked you pull them 
away before having time to choose or will anything 
about it. And so of many similar things. This involun- 
tary action is what is called the reflex action of the cord. 
In the sympathetic system there is still less dependence 
on the brain ; nearly everything is done without any 
choice or even consciousness regarding it. The nerve 
centers or ganglia return the motor impulses that are 
needed, and report to the brain through another nerve 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS 1 55 

when they get ready, if there is need of doing so ^t all. 

The reflex action, W'hich is simply an action and a re- 
action within a nerve circuit, is shown most plainly in 
animals that have had the brain removed. There is no 
conscious interference from the brain, and the reflex 
action is prompt and decided. Any animal or human 
that may have the nerves of its limbs irritated immedi- 
ately after will move them as quickly as ever before. 
The frog, because it dies slowly, is an animal commonly 
used, and after its decapitation has been known to use 
one foot after the other to remove something from its 
thigh. An electric irritation of the chest stimulates a 
movement of both arms in the headless human subject 
to remove the cause. And so of any number of similar 
experiments. The sensation goes only to the spinal 
cord, and the motor impulse returns from there to effect 
the movement. 

The movements made by the living human body ex- 
hibit reflex action in all its grades from the most simple 
to the most complex, or from the purely reflex and 
involuntary to that most completely under voluntary 
control. The twitch of the leg which a child makes 
when its foot is tickled, or the start that a strong man 
shows when a thunderbolt comes crashing down close 
by him, is an instance of what is purely reflex or in- 
voluntary. The movements we make in sleep are reflex, 
coming from a sensation of discomfort slowly making 
itself felt, and at length accumulating sufficient force of 
reaction to cause us to turn over or take some easier 
position. Sometimes a dim consciousness is associated 
with it, as when the sensation is one of cold or heat, 
which may secure the reactive movement for more or 
less covering, or may fail, even after the brain is aroused 
sufliciently to know what is wanted. To make the 
statement correct we must say that some of these move- 
ments affect that part of the cord, or great bundle of 



156 CONCEIT AND 

nerves, which is inside the skull, though they do not 
fairly reach the voluntary consciousness. 

To make the statement correct we must also say that 
breathing, coughing, swallowing, sneezing, are examples 
of reflex action, which may take place simply as such, 
or may be modified more or less by volition. We may 
breathe or cough, or check the impulse for a while and 
refrain. The balance of the two kinds of action is very 
close. If one gets a piece of tough beefsteak in his 
mouth and chews on it a while, yet does not dare to 
swallow, he will find such a struggle going on between 
the involuntary tendency to swallow and the voluntary 
one against swallowing, that he may think he is destined 
to be choked in spite of all his will power. 

In addition to such mixed impulses we have certain 
motions that are at first voluntary, but afterward be- 
come involuntary or reflex ; though, unlike the ones just 
mentioned, we can resume the whole control when we 
choose. Most of our walking is of this kind. The more 
common movements of the fingers in playing musical 
instruments, in knitting, and in various kinds of labor, 
are the same. After sufficient frequency and continu- 
ance of habit, the volitional control is given up, the 
hands and feet being left to the control of the spinal 
cord. 

All the instincts and appetites of the body are so many 
tendencies to reflex action, controlled more or less by the 
will. A moderate appetite for food is easily enough con- 
trolled ; that of a man who has involuntarily fasted for 
three days gives much more difficulty. So of the drink- 
er's appetite for liquor ; controlled for a time, it after a 
certain periods demands a spree so imperiously that 
he gives way to it. Any one can think of similar 
illustrations. 

Now comes in the special point of all this preparation. 



SELF-R I GHTEOUSNESS I $y 

What is the difference between the involuntary and the 
voluntary action? It is simply a difference of degree in 
the complexity of the reflex action. The simple reflex is 
very simple action and reaction. The higher forms are 
indirect reflex action, having the circuit divided, and 
connection made by an additional nerve, or more than 
one. The most complete thought, judgment and action 
of the human mind in regard to any matter is an exceed- 
ingly complex reflex action, having many connections 
and transfers, like a telegram sent to various offices, and 
consuming much time, before it finally brings a re- 
sponse. 

The reflex action, already complex, becomes still 
further compounded by causing a first reaction in some 
one mind, which through muscular action communicates 
itself to the senses of some other mind, and from that 
second one, by a similar reaction, to a third, fourth, or 
any number of minds. This last might be called the 
social reflex action, the different individuals representing 
the separate cortical cells of a single brain. All the 
various forms of nerve function are thus essentially the 
same ; and it is only through the varying degrees of 
complexity that the lowest and highest — instinct and 
reason — have come to seem like things of different nature. 

In the experiment of the headless frog, before referred 
to, we have the first and simplest form of complex reflex 
action. The irritating substance being placed on the 
thigh of one leg, the foot of that leg is by the direct and 
simple reflex action raised to remove it ; but failing to 
reach it, the continued irritation passes across the spinal 
cord, and stimulates the motor nerve of the opposite leg, 
till the foot of that leg is raised, and pushes off the 
caustic substance. Now, if the frog had its head on one 
might think it reasoned about the matter, inferring that 
when it could not succeed with one foot it must try the 
other. The result however is the same through a com- 



158 CONCEIT AND 

plex reflex action. Why did not the second leg move its 
foot toward its own thigh instead of the opposite ? 
Apparently because the impulse did not come through 
the same nerve that it did in the other — ^the ordinary 
sensitive nerve of the leg- — but through a cross connec- 
tion from the opposite side ; the impulse through each 
nerve leading to its own proper or habitual result. But 
the action is just as intelligent as if the frog had had its 
head, and reasoned upon it for half an hour. 

Let us next notice the difference between the nerve 
system of an animal like this and that of man; and it 
will help us to understand how thinking may be a reflex 
action. I quote again from the biologist Letourneau. 

"The more A^oluminous the nervous cords are the 
more developed will be the nuclei of the optic layers, 
the stronger the current of sensations and impressions, 
and the more vigorously agitated will be the cortical per- 
ceptive centres, (or convolutions) those nervous ele- 
ments that have consciousness of sensations, which 
weigh them, compare them, register them ; consequently 
the more dithcult will be their ponderatory labor. If at 
the same time these cortical layers have little surface and 
depth, in other terms, if the cerebral hemispheres are 
little developed, the animal or man will be peculiarly 
instinctive — ^will blindly obey the actual impression. If, 
on the contrary, the perceptive centers or convolutions 
dominate then the being will be intelligent, reflective, 
master of itself It is by virtue of this law that the in- 
ferior vertebrates, m which the nervous intercranian 
vesicles, olfactory, optical, &c. are as voluminous as the 
cerebral vesicles (or convolutions) have but a rudi- 
mentary intelligence. 

"It is easy enough to explain why a particular man 
having otherwise little intelligence, is nevertheless en- 
dowed with this or that sensitive aptitude. It is enough 
that the external ear be well shaped, the nucleus of the 
optic layer that corresponds with it voluminous, and the 
portion of cortical substance in relation with this nucleus 
rich in cells, in order that the individual, though other- 
wise ill endowed, should have musical aptitudes. We 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS 1 59 

thus comprehend sing-ular facts that have seemed abnor- 
mal to many observers ; for example that many idiots 
have shown a taste and even an aptitude for music."' 
(Biology, pp. 44, 142.) 

In the half-idiotic musician there is a certain part of 
the outside brain that is well developed. When the 
whole outside brain is well developed there is ability for 
all kinds of thought or m.ental performance. There is a 
larger mass, and a greater number of cells of the grey 
matter. These cells being "all connected with each by 
minute fibers, an impression carried to the outside of the 
cerebrum at one point may, if strong enough, be carried 
all over the brain in every direction, and be deflected 
and reflected in a great number of ways, before it finally 
excites a motor nerve to carry out some movement 
of the body. The reflection of a sensational impulse 
through these hundreds of minor connections between 
+he brain cells, forth and back in every direction, before 
it reaches its final reflection into a motor nerve, is what 
is meant by complex reflex action. In the frog exper- 
iment mentioned there was only one; in the human 
brain there may be a thousand or any indefinite number. 
They correspond to the process of thinking. Certain 
physiologists believe the process of thinking does take 
place in these cells of grey matter at the outside of the 
brain. The manner of their location, and the way they 
are connected v/ith the sensory and motor fibers, is a 
strong evidence that thought is their real function. The 
sensory fibres from all parts of the body, passing be- 
tween the cells of the more interior layers, terminate in 
the extreme outer ones. The motor fibers begin at the 
extreme lower or most internal layer, and between these 
outermost and innermost layers are a number of layers 
of intermediate cells, through which the sensory impulse 
has to pass to reach the motor fibers, when it thus ter- 
minates. But it does not always reach far enough for 



l60 CONCEIT AND 

that. It may be turned back in its various travels over 
the minute fibers till it exhausts itself in bitter or pleas- 
ant feeling, or shows itself outside the brain only by a 
blush, a smile, a billions spell or a heartache. We know 
that in well developed brains, after impressions are 
experienced through sight, hearing or feeling, there is 
usually some interval of time given to thought before 
anything is said or done in response. It may be a min- 
ute or an hour, a month or half a lifetime. There is 
apparently no part of the brain where this intermediate 
thought, between feeling and action, can go on except in 
these intermediate layers of cells, between those where 
sensation terminates, and those where motion begins. 
Assuming this to be their function its operation becomes 
more conceivable than formerly. Where there is but 
little grey matter in the cerebrum, as in most animals, 
reflex action is but slightly complex, and sensations 
quickly result in some kind of movement. In men of 
inferior brains, where there is more however of the cell 
matter than in most animals, we find impulsiveness of 
disposition, and hasty or premature action, just as in the 
animal or the child, with its partially developed brain. 
In those persons whose brains are fully grown, the con- 
volutions numerous and the grey matter deep, will be 
found the most thought before action, and as a conse- 
quence the more complete control under excitement ; 
because the impulse from sensation passes through a 
great number of cells before reaching the motor fibers. 
If by counteracting reflections it is prevented from 
reaching the motor fibers, it may finally come to rest in 
some cell or group of cells, and six months or a year 
afterward another impulse from sensation may strike that 
cell or group of cells, discharging the store of force that 
was laid up by the last motion within them, renewing 
the thoughts of the former time, and continuing the new 
compound impulse till it results in action. Or it may 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS l6l 

again disappear in the cells, and have to be reexcited a 
third or a fourth time, before the feeling is sufficiently 
strong to end in words or deeds. 

These cells having somewhat of the character of bat- 
tery cups or minute Leyden jars, those in which motion 
ends accumulate a store of nerve force, and when this is 
discharged by another impulse of thought or feeling it 
may again accumulate force, much as the cells of a mus- 
cle, after its natural exercise, acquire new force for subse- 
quent action. And being connected with each other, as 
those of the muscle are not, a very faint impression on 
the senses — a mere whisper it may be — can rouse to 
action a great number of them, and so generate an ex- 
citement that will end only in the most extravagant 
movements. Their connection with the central con- 
sciousness ceases at length, and they again recuperate 
their communicating power, ready to be impressed and 
discharged by the next movement from sensation. They 
wear out by excessive use and new ones take the places 
of the old, as ^in any other tissue of the body. And 
when a part of them become exhausted, without being 
replaced, the thought and memory become feeble, slow, 
and imperfect, deranged or senseless, just as any other 
function becomes weak and imperfect when its organ 
loses strength and perfection. 

Well, what has all this long description of nerve func- 
tion to do with freedom of the will, and with conceit 
and self-righteousness.? I answer that a belief in free will 
depends very much on ignorance of the nature of the 
brain. Because man cannot see the whole round of the 
cycle of cause and effect in his mental operations, he 
imagines that he creates a beginnnig point in -it some- 
where himself. Whatever phenomena men are ignorant 
about they assume to have some personal cause, actmg 
.like a free will, and called a god. In primitive times 



l62 CONCEIT AND 

there are many of these — one for every kind of power 
manifested in Nature — and they are made to account for 
all phenomena. But at length, by increasmg knowl- 
edge, they become reduced to two, one for the universe 
as a whole, and one for man himself. These two are 
supposed to be the ultimate causes producing everything 
that cannot be brought into the domain of positive 
knowledge and law. Just as fast as we gain knowledge 
of a new department and introduce science into it, the 
god gives up his control, and moves back to a posi- 
tion behind all phenomena, where science is not quite 
ready to follow, and where many believe it cannot ad- 
vance. So this thing called a will, and by one writer 
called a "Creative First Cause, ' to primitive men, and 
to ignorant civilized ones, is responsible for everything 
the man is and does ; even for all his religious and 
political beliefs, his insanity and melancholy, including 
suicidal mania, for which laws m some of our states are 
still idiotic enough to attempt punishment, just as did 
the blind religionists of three hundred years ago. All 
the bitterness of the old political strifes contained an 
implication that men could believe one thing as easily as 
another, and therefore ought to be blamed and hated if 
they did not believe aright. Still more rigidly was relig- 
ious belief held to be a matter of choice, and all heresy 
involved moral turpitude in refusing to accept the old 
doctrines, which any one, it was believed, could see to 
be true if he would. Hence punishment for it was con- 
sidered right ; and every heretical sect down to the la- 
test has suffered punishment for its own heresy, and then 
just as promptly turned upon the heretics that went out 
from itself, and tried in some way to punish them, — by 
contempt and depreciation if nothing worse. 

As, through increasing knowledge, we have come to 
learn that beliefs are the consequences of character, of 
habits, of personal interest, and especially of education. 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS 163 

we have come to have more humane feelings toward the 
erring, more charity for offences we cannot quite under- 
stand, more friendliness for those of different political, re- 
ligious or social views, less confidence ni our own ri'ght- 
eousness, less of the conceited, arrogant and bigoted 
spirit which engenders bitterness, hatred, and strife. 
And here is the core of the whole matter. When this 
conceit of our own somethingness is finally cast out of our 
brains, by the knowledge that every operation going on 
within them is subject to law, like all else we know ; that 
cause and effect rule to the utmost in every thought, 
feeling, and imagination ; that nothing ever originates i-n 
the mind as self-caused or without cause ; that all our 
apparent freedom, when most free or self-controlled, is 
still traceable to some cause, provided we understand the 
brain's action, and with honest willingness to learn and 
unlearn, try to find the back-lying antecedents of what 
seems so spontaneous — when we have this knowledge, 
and this candor, then the last vestiges of self-conceit and 
self-righteousness have lost their rootage, and must also 
be thrown out. Though we may feel capable of control- 
ing ourselves under all possible circumstances, of choos- 
ing such lines of conduct as we shall never condemn or 
regret, of determining our destiny for all future time, yet 
we shall know that we are still subjects of causation, as 
truly and completely as the atom of sand by the road- 
side, or the stick that floats on the waters. We shall 
realize that there is nothing in us as independent beings 
beyond all others ; nothing outside of the great universal 
domain over which law rules with perfect authority ; 
nothing except a capacity for superior development, and 
its accompanying power ; which capacity has itself been 
acquired through that same great process of evolution 
which has developed all things to their present state. 



The Christian world has been striving for two thousand 



164 CONCEIT AND 

years to be charitable and humble, but could not for 
want of a true philosophy, and a scientific knowledge of 
the human organism. The church, instead of being able 
to lift up the fallen and depraved, finds itself growing 
self-righteous as soon as it begins to be prosperous ; and 
then, separating itself from the unfortunate, it pushes 
them farther away, and sinks them still lower in misery 
and despair. The religion of the rich and cultured 
becomes only a sentimental fraud. 

Self-conceit is the root of that constant assumption that 
whatever is not our truth is a falsehood to be antagonized, 
a stranger, an alien, a spiritual barbarian, to be despised, 
and refused all hospitality. It makes us blind to all the 
beauty and glory seen by others, shuts us up in a little 
narrow world of our own, and blights all intellectual 
growth. 

Both these mean dispositions unite in creating discord 
and disfellowship among those who should be bound 
together as with iron bands in every noble cause. They 
are the first prompters to envy, jealousy, and all hateful 
selfish feelings. Under their malign influence reform or- 
ganizations, labor unions, and patriotic brotherhoods go to 
pieces like rotten wood, or lose all cohesive power and 
all effective energy for their own good purposes. 

Conceit and self-righteousness are the two great un- 
seen but most powerful enemies of unselfishness — that 
charity which ^'suffereth long and is kind, which en vieth 
not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave 
itself unseemly, seeketh not its own, is not provoked, 
taketh not account of evil, rejoiceth not in unrighteous- 
ness, but rejoiceth in the truth, which beareth all things, 
believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all 
things, and never faileth." Like other kinds of pride too 
they are frauds, making pretension to something we do 
not really possess. 

And the false idea of freedom, which underlies conceit 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS 165 

and self-righteousness, thus affects us in all the innumer- 
able thoughts, feelings, and acts of our daily life — in our 
homes, our business, our amusements, our religion, our 
everything. I wish however, to show more especially 
its connection with two subjects, — our treatment of crim- 
inals, and our matrimonial life. 

The treatment of criminals has never till of late years 
been anything but vindictive, brutal and cruel. How 
could it be otherwise when the guilty one was consid- 
ered guilty only because he might have been good as 
easily as evil ; that he was as free to choose one course 
as another.'* The natural impulse to vengeance would 
have been sufficiently cruel anyway, but the belief in the 
criminals freedom made it more so. It justified men in 
imposing any extreme of punishment. If an offender 
was as free to do right as wrong, yet chose the wrong, 
why should he not receive all the punishment any one 
was disposed to give, even to killing for a small offence.? 
And that is the way men did reason and feel. Many a 
time I have heard them say of some offender, "He 
might have dcme differently, or, he knew he was doing 
wrong; now let him suffer:" '*He has made his own 
bed ; now let him lie in it." 

It is only since modern science has given us some 
idea of a cause for all events, including all human action, 
that a more humane feeling has taken the place of the 
old cruelty, and the prison been looked upon as a reform 
institution, with efforts to make it such in reality. As 
Science becomes able to show us still more of the crimi- 
nal's nature, and the motives that impel him to crime ; 
how he comes to possess bad tendencies ; how a selfish 
competitive society leaves him to grow up without edu- 
cation, or any useful knowledge by which to get a 
living; how when hard times in the business world 
come on he is thrown out of such poor employment as 



l66 CONCEIT AND 

he could get ; how intoxicating liquors are thrust before 
him at every turn ; how loneliness and depression drive 
him to drink, to dissipate for a time his unhappy feel- 
ings ; how, if he has any brains at all he must realize the 
injustice of social inequality, and feel that he has been 
badly treated in being shut out from wealth and com- 
fort ; how he will instinctively believe he has some right 
to live, along with the rest ; how the indifference to his 
fate which he sees in nearly every one around him pro- 
vokes him to turn his hand against all alike, rendering 
him desperate and reckless as to what he may do ; how 
in such a condition he is ready to quarrel and fight, to 
plot burglary and theft, and when he is successful enjoy 
the consciousness of his ability to rob, glory in his 
shame, and so continue his evil course ; while his chil- 
dren, inheriting all the father's depraved tendencies, are 
still further cut off from good associations, still easier 
led or driven mto the criminal mode of life ; till at length 
every kind of horrible fiendishness becomes developed; 
— when we come to see the rationale of all this we shall 
become yet more humane, and be willing to put the 
criminal into a reform institution, where instead of being 
tyrannized over by ignorant and brutal officials, he will 
be taught his duty to his fellows, and the reason for it, 
and how he can learn to live a true life. Then charit- 
able juries and other persons will not aid the guilty to 
escape the law, knowing it best for himself as well as 
for society that he should be caught and convicted. His 
length of sentence will not depend on the vindictiveness 
or clemency of a judge, but on the wisdom of his teach- 
ers ; who will decide when he is a safe man to be at 
large, and never release him until he is, When that time 
comes we shall not be so unprincipled as to drive away 
our bad characters, to inflict their deviltry upon other 
communities, nor so ungenerous as to leave their chil- 
dren to grow up under the tutelage of the criminal class. 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS 167 

But we shall never make these desirable changes so long- 
as we are ignorant and self-righteous enough to believe 
that we are by nature or grace superior to our fellows, 
or that they are by nature villains, or that any one of us 
is independent of laws and causes which determine our 
action. 

When two young persons take each other for better 
or for worse, according to the formula their more experi- 
enced parents have made for them, it is always with an 
expectation to avoid the worse condition entirely. They 
promise eternal love in the fond belief that they have 
control of love, and of all their future desires and aspira- 
tions. But alas ! they are the most complete ignora- 
muses in the whole world. They think their feelings are 
to remain always the same, when they will hardly be 
the same for even three weeks. They imagine they can 
chain up their thoughts to one little spot for a lifetime, 
when they will be sure to break loose and wander away 
in spite of all care and watchfulness. They never seem 
to discover that love is exclusive and devoted to one 
person while it is temporarily satisfied with that one, 
yet ever ready after a time, of uncertain duration, to be 
dissatisfied with that one, and equally exclusive and 
devoted to some other. They are so unaware of the 
nature of their passion that they take the uncertain ele- 
ment of it to be lasting, and ignore the more certain part 
as of no reality. They are blind to the fact that when 
they promise they are in their most favorable moral 
condition, and are assuming that to be permanent, when 
it is going to change rapidly and surely for the worse. 
They forget or ignore a thousand unfavorable influences 
that will operate to bring alienation and discord between 
them as soon as they come in contact with the world. 
And so with but small prospect of an ability to keep their 
word, they promise one of the most difficult things hu- 



l68 CONCEIT AND 

man nature can undertake. No wonder that in most 
cases love is a failure and a disappointment; that a 
husband or wife is a necessary evil; that marriage is a 
continual misery ; and that infanticide, murder and sui- 
cide are frequent developments of it; besides a large 
unknown quantity of unfaithfulness, resulting in dis- 
eases that curse the innocent, as well as the guilty, for a 
lifetime, and for an unknown number of generations. 

Exceptional instances there are, it is true, in which 
love and marriage results happily, and the parties are 
able to keep their promises with sufficient fidelity. They 
are the few fortunate ones who possess spiritual sympa- 
thies — unity of thought and feeling upon the most impor- 
tant matters of life. They are the most highly developed 
characters, possessing the greatest moral power, and the 
largest stock of reliable knowledge, along with some 
peculiar adaptations to each other. They come in con- 
tact with so few who can compete with them for a per- 
son's affections that they are able to hold each other, and 
allow of the promises being fulfilled. Even they, how- 
ever, do not know how much longer they can do so ; 
the future is still invisible, notwithstanding they may 
have much confidence in their own ability. 

But there are few, I imagine, who do not feel in their 
own consciousness how foolish is the pretence of free- 
dom or self-control in matters of affection. They know 
they have never had it — that in their hearts, if not out- 
wardly, they have failed to keep the engagements they 
made with such unhesitating confidence. And yet this 
pretence of freedom is made the excuse and justification 
for all jealousy, all the reproach and bitterness that mar- 
ried parties bestow on each other, all open abuse and 
cruelty, all the revenges, quarrels, fights, murders, and 
suicides that occur by the thousand every year in every 
country, and bring incalculable blight and ruin upon 
great numbers of people. An immense self-righteous- 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS 169 

ness lies back of the jealousy, contempt and revengeful- 
ness thus manifested ; and the belief of a free will in the 
offender is the root out of which it has grown. Were it 
not for this false idea of freedom — of an ability to con- 
trol the affections, which does not and never did exist, 
there could be no reason, no justification, no excuse for 
all thjs marital crime. The course of action that now 
terminates in such horrors would arouse no impulse of 
revenge, no disposition to be cruel. Sorrow, mourning 
there might be, but no murder nor suicide in addition. 
If the natural instability of love, in precisely the same 
sense that all other desires are liable to instability in the 
pursuit of their objects, were known and acknowledged, 
there would be no more disposition to punish for a 
change in the affections than there now is to punish one 
for a change of appetite for food, a change of ambitious 
projects, a change of intellectual studies, or a change in 
the methods of obtaining wealth. What the true char- 
acter of love is cannot be exhibited any further here, 
though it is a subject that needs light thrown upon it 
more perhaps than any other. The point to be observed 
is, how completely in regard to it the profession of free- 
dom proves itself a fraud, how easily nature, working 
after its own laws, defeats all efforts to thwart its opera- 
tion, and what an infinite amount of wickedness and 
suffering is caused by the teaching and acceptance of 
this one old false, fetishistic notion, born of the ignor- 
ance natural to the undeveloped, selfish man, and con- 
tinued in our time because men are still too indolent to 
use their brains, or too timid to trust their reason when 
it acts. 

We never can finish up and perfect our own lives, 
speaking in the comparative sense, till we accept our- 
selves as we are, all of us imperfect, varying only in 
degree, some very low and some very high perhaps, but 



I/O CONCEIT AND 

all united in one common bond of imperfection, which 
is as true of our self-control as of all our other qualities ; 
all of us having the same origin and the same des- 
tiny ; all in different stages of growth ; some advancing 
rapidly, some slowly or not at all ; some starved and 
stunted into slow decay, some blasted by misfortune, 
and withered till apparently dead. 

Man is only an atom, floated and tossed about by 
continual storms on the great life ocean, till by evolu- 
tion resulting from existing forces and conditions, he at 
length acquires power to partially control his surround- 
ings and himself. No one can know that he is self- 
centred beyond the chance of temporarily losing his 
balance; for though he may believe he is or will be 
under any circumstances he can imagine, he can never 
know what temptations may yet sometime assail him. 
As he can never become absolutely perfect in any other 
respect, so he cannot in this. If he is wise he will 
acknowledge his liability to error and sin, and while re- 
joicing in his own goodness if he has attained any, be 
willing to lift up any less fortunate one he is able to 
reach, no matter how low that one may be. 

We never shall arrive at the Kingdom of The Unselfish 
until we have this knowledge of ourselves, and this will- 
ingness to accept our nature as it is, with the desire to 
make it as perfect as possible. The ambition to claim a 
high origin for our souls is as foolish and vain as the 
pretence of nobility from our ancestors. Whatever of 
good we inherit was stored up for us in our ancestors by 
that universal process of selection by which Nature, in an 
imperfect way, secures the preservation of the fittest in- 
dividuals and qualities. They were driven by circum- 
stances to develop whatever talents and excellencies we 
now possess. When by this process we become suffi- 
ciently wise to understand the purpose to be accomp- 
lished, and use the power we have gained to assist 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS I7I 

Nature in its accomplishment, we shall soon attain to 
that moral condition where, if we cannot escape the 
occasional liability to sin, we shall possess the unfailing 
ability to repent, and an organic desire and determination 
to repair the wrongs we may do without deliberate 
purpose. 

Then all the little discords of life will be resolvable into 
harmonies. Then old quarrels can be settled because we 
shall be willing to admit, and able to discover, good 
qualities and purposes in others, while confessing our 
own imperfections. Then old misunderstandings, can 
be talked over and explained, because we shall have 
more confidence in the offender, and less in ourselves. 
Then we shall be capable of true charity, because we 
shall know there is a cause for every crime, every sin, 
every little meanness, every bad habit and propensity, 
every fault of conduct or constitution, no matter what. 
Then we shall not expect too much from others, nor 
promise too much for ourselves. 

The sad thought in this connection is that the selfish, 
the young, the inexperienced and unwise must suffer 
before they will be ready to learn. We may pity them 
but cannot help, till they have tried their own way and 
failed: in most cases probably not till every effort and 
every resource for selfish happiness has been exhausted. 
When all their exertions have ended in utter misery and 
hopelessness they may be induced to surrender the last 
strong-hold of selfishness, the pretence that they have 
some superior righteousness, or some capability of their 
own, independent of natural law, and cause, and evolu- 
tion. Then they may give up their pride, may submit to 
criticism, may be willing to take position on the lowest 
round of the ladder if necessary, in order that they may 
find their true place, and be helped into making their 
best progress. In the Christian's way of viewing it, they 
must be disciplined by trials and tribulations till they 



\J2 CONCEIT AND 

become broken and humiliated to the point of acknow- 
ledging that they have no worthiness in their own char- 
acter to plead as a merit for salvation. Though this is 
not the true object of humility, the state of mind pro- 
duced is an approach toward the correct one. It is liable 
however to turn into a new kind of self-righteousness, the 
feeling that they have become the Lord's chosen ; and 
by virtue of that have some title to look down upon the 
sinners and reprobates, who have not done so well as 
they, by their own free will and choice, have done. 

The genuine humility I am speaking of cannot return 
into any such state as this. It comes from a settled 
conviction or knowledge of what the man really is as the 
product of evolution. The subject of it sees himself and 
his moral condition as the resultant of all the natural 
forces that have acted on him from the beginning, not 
only of his own life but that of his ancestors. He 
rationally knows himself to be produced and developed 
by natural causes, including the influence of other human 
beings as- a part of those causes, in precisely the same 
sense that a stick or a stone, a mountain or lake, a plant 
or an animal, is the result of such causes. He knows 
that from their influence he never does nor can escape. 
He sees his less developed fellow men as the subjects of 
less effective causes, or less favorable conditions, and 
knows that some change in the tide of fortune may yet 
carry them beyond himself; while in the wofst case 
they are only later plants growing in the same great 
human garden, where the earliest ones may not be the 
best. This view gives him a fellowship with all human, 
all animal, even all vegetable creatures. He and they 
have all travelled the same highway ; and if he is now 
near the head of the procession he will rejoice in his 
good fortune, and be glad to assist those who are strug- 
gling up behind him toward the same mountains of 
Beulah that he already has in view. 



SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS I73 

With such a conviction as this we can have no lasting 
ill will toward any living thing. The way is open to 
reconciliation with all former enemies, with all unfriend- 
ly ones who are not still in the class referred to, of those 
who are blindly and haughtily determined to have their 
own way and suffer. Even these, criminal though they 
may be, will receive from us only good will. Their very 
offences will be made the occasion for assisting them by 
necessary teaching, while they are suffering the punish- 
ment that is to convince them impressively of the wrong- 
fulness of their course. 

In conclusion let us ask ourselves if this spirit* of 
humility, of modesty, of charity, of universal fellow- 
ship — if this is not the sanctifying quality that will 
unable us to reach the final Kingdom of All Good ; to 
build up a society such as the world has dreamed of for 
a score of centuries, and hopeless of realizing here, has 
imagined to exist in a far away heaven of less material 
beings and things. When we shall have acquired humili- 
ty we shall be able to acquire whatever else we need ; 
the last root of the selfish fungus will be dead, all its ob- 
structive power will be gone, and all its evil effects will 
be quickly cast out of the regenerated mind, vitalized 
anew by a moral influence superior to any heretofore 
known. All good qualities will germinate and flourish 
in the new conditions with a vigor unprecedented. 
''Man in the sunshine of the world's new spring 
Shall walk triumphant like some holy thing." 
The prophecy, false, delusive and disappointing though 
it has always been, will nevertheless prove itself glori- 
ously true. 

It is no impossibility that I have in mind. Useless to 
tell me it is something too far m advance for any of the 
present generation to reach. It is the true life of the fu- 
ture now beginning to announce its coming in definite, 



1/4 CONCEIT AND SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS 

scientific, practical thought and statement, as it has 
before announced it in the dreams of poets, the visions 
of seers, and the abortive attempts of speculative so- 
cialism. The imperfectly fertilized fruit-blossom falls 
useless to the ground, or the young fruit withers and 
decays when partially grown ; but a later germ on the 
same stem, receivmg its full fertilization, develops and 
matures a fine specimen of its fruit. So will it be in the 
human world. Religion, morality, or the social spirit, 
vitalized and staminated by science, will produce a 
splendid fruitage, equal to all that even poets and seers 
have conceived to be possible. If I did not know the 
possibility of such realization in a way that none of 
these have ever known it, I should not be making this 
effort to have others understand what it is, and to rep- 
resent to them some of the glories this earth of ours 
may take on when a number of minds, imbued with the 
sympathy of a like attainment, shall attempt, as they 
certainly will, to bring forth its full effects in human 
life. It depends upon every individual reader how soon 
the beginnings of this happy change are to appear. 



*^^^* 



CHAPTER VIII. 

NATURAL AND SOCIAL SELECTION. 



EVERY one is supposed to have some idea of that 
f great truth called Natural Selection, which has 
immortalized the name of Charles Darwin. But if all 
know something of it, not all understand it clearly, and 
few perhaps, even of the intelligent, take in its full com- 
prehensiveness. The object here is to show its relation 
to Social Selection, and what is the outcome of both 
combined in operation. 

Mr. Darwin, in studying the problem of the origin of 
species, and in connection with it the variation of ani- 
mals and plants under domestication, was led to give 
special attention to a process of nature somewhat similar 
to man's own selection, by which some of the varying 
animals and plants came to be naturally preserved, so as 
to become the progenitors of new varieties and species. 
The process is sufficiently simple, — those which varied 
in such a manner as to give them a better chance of get- 
ting food, or escaping their enemies, were preserved, and 
their race perpetuated, while their fellows were destroyed. 
Their new characteristic, whatever it was, enabled them 
better to live and flourish in their environment, their 
ijurroundings, or circumstances, than their ancestors 
could. They became better adapted to it, or were able 
to find a new and better environment. Or if their pred- 



176 NATURAL AND 

ecessors had been driven out of a good habitat they 
became better adapted to the. poor one. Any new qual- 
ity that enabled them to preserve life better, was per- 
petuated and increased ; because those that did not have 
it were more easily destroyed, and left fewer progeny, 
while those that had it saved their lives, and left more 
descendants. The variation may have been something 
that assisted them to endure heat or cold ; to hide them- 
selves, or make themselves seen ; to fight or to escape ; 
to swim, fly or run ; to climb trees or dig holes in the 
ground ; to conceal their eggs, or carry their young with 
them. A small difference made a variety in a species ; 
but as this variety varied again, and the second one 
varied into a third the difference became great enough 
to make a species or a genus. The same process, con- 
tinued for a long time, made differences or variations 
great enough to constitute orders, families, classes, and 
all the distinctions we know among plants and animals. 
That is, all these differences were preserved by the 
selection of Nature, in allowing all that did not possess 
them to be destroyed in the struggle for life, against ene- 
mies and the hardships of the environment, leaving only 
those best adapted to the situation. In this manner 
such immense changes have occurred, through long time 
and many generations, as to transform reptiles into 
birds, and four-footed land animals into whales, por- 
poises and sea cows, to say nothing about the descen- 
dants of an ape-like animal becoming men. 

But selection is only one half the process. The other 
half is the anatomical and physiological adaptation 
caused by the action of the surrounding influences upon 
the plant or animal. A change in the environment or 
circumstances compels some change in the living thing 
affected by it, and this is a variation, — a good or bad 
one as may happen. Some causes we do not know may 
produce such differences. They must be produced by 



SOCIAL SELECTION 177 

the circumstances and conditions of the habitat, before 
they can be selected by the destruction of the unchanged 
and less fit individuals. 

As a general thing this combined process has resulted 
in producing superior races from the inferior, and the 
result is what we call high development. But in excep- 
tional cases it has preserved the inferior for inferior hab- 
itats, where the superior could not live, and degraded the 
superior to fit them for the bad conditions ; as we may 
see in the case of the whales, seals and other water 
mammals, in the negro man of the low, hot coasts of 
Africa, and in the dangerous classes of white men who 
inhabit our swamps and mountains, or the dirty and dis- 
mal back streets of our large cities. 

Now let us take note of a very important new influ- 
ence, by which the process of selection becomes changed. 
After it has produced a race of men having sufficient 
intelligence, man interferes with Nature's work, and 
selects what is best for himself. Even animals are said 
to do this, by the females selecting the males. But man 
does it more conspicuously, and beyond any doubt. 
The farmer finds a bed of sorrell creeping into his grass- 
field, or a bunch of Canada thistles, either one of which 
is better able to live than grass, and would thrive in spite 
of it if left alone ; but he immediately kills them out, 
thus selecting the grass to be saved. So he kills off his 
inferior animals, though they could live where better 
ones could not, in order to breed from those that fatten 
the easiest, or give the most milk, or travel the fastest. 
In this way he has preserved those that suit him best,, 
till he has produced very fast horses and powerful ones,, 
very fat pigs, and cows that give a large quantity of rich 
milk. So the poor laborer, not able to keep a cow, has 
changed the habits of the goat till it can live on weeds 
and refuse, yet produce milk enough for a small family^ 



1/8 NATURAL AND 

Nature would not produce either one of these. In fact if 
left to Nature's influences they would all lose the superior 
qualities that make them so useful to man. 

Man thus interferes with all kinds of plants and ani- 
mals, to select those best suited to his own life and 
happiness, regardless of theirs. Natural Selection first 
made him capable of doing this, and then he proceeds to 
improve upon the process that gave him his intelligence. 
Still further, after Nature had adapted him to the best 
environment she could give him, he begins to react 
upon his habitat ; and changes it in various ways, usu- 
ally to his advantage, but sometimes making it worse. 
He cuts down the forest, or plants a new one, to improve 
the climate ; drains the swamp to make the air and water 
more pure ; protects himself from cold and heat by his 
dwellings ; destroys ' all poisonous plants and hostile 
animals, while favoring those that furnish him food, 
drink, medicine or clothing. Finally, he exchanges with 
his fellows whatever he does not need, to obtain what he 
cannot secure within his own environment. 

Here are the two most important methods of man's 
interference with Nature, — one the interference with 
natural selection, the other the interference with his sur- 
roundings. Let them be noticed and remembered, as 
they will be referred to again. Society, as well as the 
individual man, attempts to do a little in this line, but 
not enough yet by either mode to indicate very much 
progress. 

Natural Selection operates upon societies as freely and 
powerfully as upon animals or plants. From the very 
beginning of social organization it has been operating to 
destroy those groups, tribes and nations least fit to en- 
dure. With them, as with the animal world, there is a 
perpetual struggle against physical forces, against cli- 
mate, and against enemies of their own species ever 



SOCIAL SELECTION 1/9 

ready to prey upon the weak. The more robust, the 
more intelligent, the more moral in certain qualities, 
survive ; the inferior go down, after a time more or less 
prolonged. It may be a good while first in some cases, 
but eventually the crowding of population, and emigra- 
tion of large numbers, brings a stronger race in contact 
with the weaker, and the latter falls a prey. For in- 
stance, the strongest of the half-civilized nations of this 
continent preserved themselves and their civilization for 
hundreds of years ; but at last came the white man, as 
unscrupulous as a wild tiger, and robbed and destroyed 
them with as little mercy. It was what they had done 
in a less severe manner during their own career. The 
civilized American still crowds, oppresses, robs and kills 
the red man — or did but a few years ago. The land, the 
game, the forests, and streams are finally destined for 
the superior race, and the superior part of the inferior. 
All over the world the process of taking away goes on. 
Nothing can arrest it till the stronger race has become 
sufficiently intellectual and humane to accomplish by 
innocent or merciful means the same result now pro- 
duced through slaughter, starvation and disease. 

It is easy to understand how Natural Selection acts 
among the savage and barbarous tribes of men, — how 
those with the strongest bodies, best weapons, best 
ability to stand by each other, most skill and courage, 
will press upon the territories of the weaker, fight and 
exterminate them, occupy their lands, and leave a nu- 
merous progeny of the same hardy, warlike people to 
hold what they have gained. No pretence or excuse is 
needed ; for they acknowledge no right but that of the 
strongest. Indeed, sometimes it is a matter of death by 
starvation themselves, or conquest and death to some- 
body else. Nature in this operation knows nothing of 
any right but that of the superior, or more strictly, that 
of the fittest. Instances of such movements are fur- 



l80 NATURAL AND 

nished by all those migrating" hordes which at different 
times left Asia and wandered into Europe, conquering 
and settling wherever they could ; and at a later period 
by those Tartar tribes which overflowed from, the Sibe- 
rian region into India, Persia and Asia Minor, till finally 
stopped in Europe on the banks of the Danube. 

In this manner have grown up centres of civilization 
all over the earth, wherever a stronger race got posses- 
sion of a better country than its neighbors, thickly popu- 
lated it, and in consequence adopted agriculture as the 
means of living, and cultivated the arts and industries of 
peace as well as war. 

But with these strong and civilized com. m unities the 
wofk of selection still goes on. They pursue wars of 
conquest whenever and wherever any advantage is to be 
gained, becoming larger and still more powerful, up to 
the limit where their organizing and integrating capacity 
begins to fail. The Roman empire was the completest 
illustration of such growth; though all the great empires 
that preceded it went through the same process. All of 
them however, lacked the vitality that could enable 
them to live. That vitality, as I have before said, 
is the moral feeling. In none of these civilizations 
had morality become sufficiently developed to hold the 
masses of people together against their outside enemies, 
or prevent internal dissensions. For lack of this they 
became internally corrupt through wealth, luxury, and 
sensual indulgence, till pride, servility, selfishness^ 
meanness, jealousy, faction and cowardice took the 
place of patriotism and union. In this weakened state, 
corresponding to the old age or sickness of an individ- 
ual, they fell victims to a younger and more vital race, 
who are to go through a similar course of national life, 
with such better fortune as additional moral progress 
may qualify them to obtain. 

The Norse-Gothic-Teutonic race, which finally con- 



SOCIAL SELECTION l8l 

quered the Roman Empire of the West, and overran 
nearly all Europe, is now taking its turn as the domi- 
nant factor in building up the leading civilization of the 
world; and its ability to create one that shall sustain 
and perpetuate itself is perhaps to be tested right here in 
our own country within the next twenty-five years. If 
it succeeds the future is bright with hope for the whole 
human family ; if it fails the darkness and anarchy of 
the middle ages may be again upon the world for an in- 
definite period. A hopeful person may have faith that 
it will meet the occasion triumphantly, and that this na- 
tion will take the leadership of the world's affairs for cen- 
turies of the immediate future, if not for all coming time. 

At present the stronger nations of Europe are preying 
upon the old, worn-out, feeble ones of the East, and the 
barbarous tribes of Africa and the Pacific Islands. Only 
one of the old nations seems to have much life ; that one, 
Japan, may absorb enough of Western vitality to con- 
tinue its existence. All the rest appear to be doomed. 
There is only the question of how many years before 
they will all be dominated and used for the benefit of 
the white civilizees of Europe. In these days, however, 
the robbery is not so direct and unconcealed as formerly. 
There must be some excuse for making war, some little 
pretence of justice, or some claim to improve the con- 
dition of the conquered masses. Neither is the manner 
of robbery so directly by the strong hand as once ; it is 
now accomplished partially by means of trade. The 
opportunity for trade is the great advantage the con- 
queror gains. This is the main purpose of all that is 
going on in Africa and Asia to-day. 

Such is the way Selection operates among groups, 
tribes and nations. Next, let us trace its operation 
among individuals.' We shall find it working out the 
same result with them as with the social organizations 
composed of them. 



1 82 NATURAL AND 

Referring- first to the vegetal and animal kingdoms for 
comparison, we find that wherever there is room or 
opportunity for any form of life to get a foothold there 
it is sure to appear, and compete with all the rest for an 
existence. However dreary, wet, cold, dry or barren 
the soil something will live on it. Vines will find a 
place among the thickest trees and bushes. Parasites 
and mosses cling to every old tree and stump, and 
lichens to the rocks. Then, every form of vegetation is 
fed upon by some kind of animal life. To find a perfect 
leaf upon a tree you must take it when young, while 
many are begun upon even in the bud. Besides this 
every animal, including man himself, has its enemies. 
Every little creature in the air or water, on the ground or 
under it, has some larger one waiting to rob it of its life 
in order to sustain its own. In the vegetal world there 
is a universal competition for sustenance, the fortunate 
ones getting it first, while those that fail starve and die 
out, as does the undergrowth in a forest. In the animal 
world all that do not live upon the vegetal prey upon the 
weaker forms of animals. Every contrivance and meth- 
od the most ingenious human being could have devised 
for snaring, decoying, catching, holding and killing, is 
employed by animals against each other ; and as many 
equally cunning devices for safety or escape. One con- 
tinual robbery and slaughter has been going on for mil- 
lions of years — ever since life had its first existence — 
and will continue for an unknown period to come. 
Whether more happiness or suffering has yet resulted 
from it no one can say, and to Nature herself (supposing 
it personified) it makes no difference. By means of it 
she has compelled every species and order of life to 
perfect itself as far as its constitution and circumstances 
would allow, and out of the best of these she has pro- 
duced still superior ones, as a general result, till the 
process has ultimated in man ; and in man one race has 



SOCIAL SELECTION 183 

become superior to all the others in strength, courage, 
intelligence, and capacity for complete moral develop- 
ment. By this stock of men, it seems probable, the 
whole earth is ultimately to be peopled, to the extinction 
of the rest, and of all animals and plants detrimental to 
man's happiness. Then Nature's long and cruel process 
of Selection will have accomplished its main purpose, 
and what remains to be done will be done by man 
himself. 

Now, in the world of human society we find every- 
thing I have just described as existing in the animal and 
vegetal. Wherever there is room and opportunity for 
a human being to find sustenance there is one crowded 
in, competing with his fellows for all he needs or can 
get. Competition is the rule and practice so universally 
that few ever think of it as otherwise than entirely right 
and proper. It extends through all occupations, from 
the scavengers of our city streets to our teachers, states- 
men, authors, and all the professional class ; to all 
indeed except a few who have already acquired more 
than they can use. Here too, it is just as merciless as 
in the lower world. With occasional exceptions, every 
one who cannot sustain himself suffers and finally goes 
to the wall. The strongest, or more correctly, those 
best fitted for the social conditions of the time, survive, 
flourish, and leave their progeny. The selective process 
is not so clearly seen, but is equally effective. The 
weaker person, or one less fortunate through circum- 
stances, is first crowded out of one position into an- 
other less advantageous, then out of that into one 
still inferior, and becoming demoralized by his ill luck 
is more easily pushed still lower down, till he gets so 
low he is unable to sustain himself in a state of health. 
All the while he is going downward he may be pushing 
some other one less able or less fortunate than himself 
out of one place after another, while this one may repeat 



1 84 NATURAL AND 

the process on one still inferior, till the weakest one 
fails to obtain sufficient wholesome food, is poorly shel- 
tered from cold, heat and dampness, is compelled to live 
in filthy surroundings, till disease, despair, and dissipa- 
tion make him an easy prey, leaving his children to 
grow up as they can, sickly, ignorant and depraved, to 
fall more easily under the crushing out process than did 
the parent. Some go down quickly, others more slowly ; 
but rank after rank they are continually going down and 
out of sight, each robbing and pressing down the one 
beneath him, as steadily and surely as the large trees 
of the forest by their growth deprive the small ones of 
nutriment and sunshine till they die. All this is simply 
the effect of competition. 

The human enemies, too, that prey upon humanity 
are as numerous and varied as those that prey upon ani- 
mals and plants. When one by industry and frugality 
has obtained more than his necessities require, if he is 
generous enough to allow it, some sickly, or inefficient 
friend, relative, or co-religionist will fasten upon him, like 
a parasitic plant to a tree, or a flea to a dog's back, to live 
at his expense. Indeed, the parasite class is a large 
one, and likely to become more numerous as human 
nature becomes milder, till men are wise enough to pre- 
vent its increase by propagation, and limit it to the acci- 
dental victims of misfortune. 

Every one who is feeble or undeveloped in any par- 
ticular finds some enemy prompt to take advantage of 
the weakness, and thrive at his cost of suffering. Every 
one ignorant of the extent of human meanness and 
villainy is astonished to discover some thief, swindler, 
or murderer anxious to rob him of property or life. 
Human spiders, of unspeakable malignity, set their 
traps, and lie in wait for every unsuspecting creature 
who can be lured into the net, and held till his last drop 
of blood has been sucked. Human wolves, some of 



SOCIAL SELECTION 185 

them in sheep's clothing, stand ready to seize, ruin, and 
devour every unwise and defenceless woman that deceit 
or accident may bring within their reach, and with a 
heartlessness no canine wolf can equal. Human croc- 
odiles, with tears more hypocritical than those the 
reptiles are fabled to shed, swallow up the substance 
of their nearest relatives, or dearest friends if once they 
get it within reach. Human prostitutes both female and 
male, like leopards and dogs that hunt other animals 
for the favor of their master, are ready to sell their 
bodies and souls to catch the unwary, and rob them to 
the utmost for a share of what they obtain. And of all 
venomous snakes the vilest and most venomous are 
those human ones who sneak about some one who may 
have provoked their wholly selfish and brutal natures, 
till they can safely strike at reputation or life, or what 
may be dearer than life itself. Still further, there are 
human vampires that fasten upon their victims, and 
drain them of all vitality, till they sink into the grave, 
murdered without any sign of guilt or violence. 

And these are not all. There are all possible kinds of 
these enemies, with all degrees of power to injure, from 
the ruthless fiend who murders the innocent in cold 
blood, to the little-souled pests and torments, that buzz 
and sting, and peck and bite, and against whom there is 
no defense. Every device and means that ingenuity 
stimulated by want can invent is made use of to effect 
their purposes. Every natural appetite is tempted, every 
amiable sentiment is flattered and cajoled, every fear or 
sensitiveness is bullied and threatened, every ambition 
is encouraged, even every sacred feeling and aspiration 
is imposed upon, to bring the victim where he or she can 
be cheated and robbed, or used as a tool to rob others. 
Every trap, treachery, pretence, "lie, swindle, I might 
almost say every vice and crime, is an effort in some way 
to take something from another — to gain at his expense 



1 86 NATURAL AND 

— or else to resist such robbery. In trade, in govern- 
ment, in church, in society, — everywhere the great game 
of robbery, in some shape, goes on against all who are 
not prepared to detect and resist it. It has thus gone on. 
unceasingly since social life began, and on some parts of 
the earth may continue for centuries yet to come. 

The human race suffers in one especial manner in 
which animals do not. Their mtellect is not sufficient 
to overcome their instincts, and so they do not become 
depraved. Man, with his stronger intellect, has dis- 
covered unnatural gratifications for his appetites, and 
has practiced these in opposition to his instincts. Every 
species of intemperance, luxury and sensuality he has 
indulged in, because he possessed reason sufficient to 
discover means of doing so, but not enough to perceive 
the full consequences of his action. He has fallen a 
victim to his own weakness of thought and of self-con- 
trol. Rich or poor, fortunate or unfortunate in other 
respects, if he is weak enough to be tempted some one 
stands ready to draw him aside, and rob him of property, 
character, health and life. Millions of the weaker part 
of humanity go down from this cause every year ; they 
have always been doing so ; and yet the gain of intelli- 
gence and character, to the wiser and better part that 
remain, is comparatively little ; the weak ones are de- 
stroyed almost as fast as ever before ; so small an im- 
provement is made by Nature in a long time, and at such 
a vast, such a horrible expense of suffering. 

Even yet there remains still another method of opera- 
ting against the less fortunate. As in the contests of 
nations or peoples the superior combined to conquer, and 
exterminate or enslave the weaker, so within the nation 
or people one group or class is united against a weaker 
class or an individual, to take still more the benefit of 
their superiority. In olden times the priestly class did 
this, and has not yet forgotten how to do it; the political 



SOCIAL SELECTION 187 

or governing class has always flourished at the cost of 
the governed ; the professional and mercantile classes 
still make their big salaries and profits at the expense 
of those who do inferior kinds of service. 

Some persons in this country make an outcry lately 
because the transporting interest takes advantage of its 
monopoly to increase its gains more rapidly than it 
ought. But reprehensible as this action may be, it is 
no worse than that of other classes and individuals. All 
the great merchants, all the eminent lawyers, physi- 
cians and preachers, all who hold high positions, take 
advantage of their ability and opportunities to gain all 
they can ; and indirectly, but no less surely, it is all 
at the expense, finally, of that humblest class which, 
though sinking itself, supports all those above it. The 
tillers of the soil, the diggers in the mine, the mechanics 
who convert raw material into things of use and beauty 
— the workers with muscle instead of brain — these are 
the ones who by giving more labor than they receive in 
exchange, furnish subsistence to all the more fortunate 
classes. 

From man downward to the lowest grade of animal 
life one order lives upon another, the stronger upon the 
weaker; finally it is the vegetable world sustains the 
whole. 

But here we come to another feature of the Selection 
process, one worthy of special attention. I mean for- 
tune, chance, the good or bad luck of individuals, spe- 
cies, races, or nations. Besides the influences acting 
constantly on an organism, there are occasional and 
extraordinary ones. If a seed happens to be carried by 
the wind, or by some bird or beast, to a favorable local- 
ity, and dropped there at the right time, it may germi- 
nate and produce a tree superior to its parent. Every 
other seed may fall where it grew, and if it springs up 



1 88 NATURAL AND 

at all may have no chance to become a tree. So if a 
pair of animals wander out of their usual habitat into a 
better one, through fright or in search of water, the re-: 
suit may be an improved variety, and later an improved 
genus or order. On the other hand the misfortune of 
eating some poisonous plant may kill off the superior 
members of a species, who have discovered a new 
habitat, and but for the poison would have made an 
improvement. No one can estimate how much the evo- 
lution of living things has been helped or hindered by 
such chance influences. Nature can do nothing to favor 
her work, nor to avoid misfortune. All she can do is to 
take advantage of an opportunity when chance brings 
it. And chance is as likely to bring what will check the 
process as what will help it on. A thousand seeds may 
be wasted before one reaches a spot where it can live ; 
and though the purpose or end of all this movement is 
to produce more perfect things, yet generation after 
generation lives and dies without improvement, till at 
length some chance gives a favoring circumstance, and 
an advance — a very slight advance — is made. A great 
many attempts consume a vast amount of force, but are 
fruitless toward accomplishing the object; and whether 
the animal life that continues all this time is worth living 
to the animal is far from certain. Let us hope that it is ; 
for otherwise Nature is a sad blunderer. It has been 
common to speak of Nature's works as perfect ; and as 
regards the best of them that may be true in a relative 
sense. But we now know that everything has reached 
its present state by evolution from a very imperfect one ; 
and that in the process an immense amount of time and 
energy have been consumed without effect. It is only 
after intelligent humanity has been evolved that effects 
begin to be produced with the idea of reaching perfect 
adaptation through the least waste of time, means, and 
suffering. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 189 

In society the effects of good or ill fortune are no less 
conspicuous than among- the lower orders of existence. 
Among primitive societies, if one by having a better 
opportunity became more advanced, and consequently 
more prosperous than the rest, yet happened to be shut 
in by limited territory, its neighbors found excuse for 
fighting and robbing it. Only when such a society had 
a location where it could communicate its intelligence, 
and its moral as well as physical improvement to others, 
and so gradually build up a larger and continually in- 
creasing tribe or confederacy, that it had any chance to 
live. Any little quarrel may pruduce war between a 
small tribe and its neighbors ; and though the equal of 
any surrounding it, the small one may be blotted out, 
and all its progress lost. The Erie tribe of Indians 
were thus exterminated by their Iroquois brethren. The 
Polish nation was thus killed, and its people checked and 
put back from the position they had gained. Whole 
communities in southern France were thus slaughtered 
for attaining to a superior religious and moral develop- 
ment. A similar fate overtakes whole civilizations. All 
the progress made by the Indians of Mexico, Yucatan 
and Peru was thrown away by the Spanish conquerors. 
They and the surrounding peoples gained so little from it 
we may with sufficient truth say it was lost to the world. 
So of the old Eastern civihzations, the Egyptian, Assyr- 
ian, Persian, Phoenician, Greek and Roman ; though 
their attainments were not wholly lost, most of them 
were destroyed. The Alexandrian library and museum, 
though perhaps over-valued, was certainly worth saving 
to the world. These are a few conspicuous examples of 
Humanity's ill fortunes. Smaller ones could be pointed 
out by the historian. 

Every one knows how a similar good or bad fate at- 
tends individuals in present society. If one by good 
luck finds opportunity to acquire sufficient property for 



190 NATURAL AND 

comfort, but not enough to tempt him into luxury and 
dissipation, he makes progress, and leaves an improved 
progeny behind him. Where a majority of individuals 
are of this type a prosperous community grov^^s up. 
Another individual may be born with qualities equally 
well adapted to his time and society, but if he fails to 
inherit property or to find an opportunity of acquiring it 
he fails to advance, and his children may deteriorate. 
The third generation, inheriting less of the social quali- 
ties demanded, goes down to a still lower grade, and 
may become paupers or outcasts. If one of these again 
finds encouragement to strive for a better lot, and by 
small success gains a new stock of hopefulness and en- 
ergy, these quahties transmitted to his offspring may 
enable some of them to again acquire wealth and all the 
means of progress. 

Here, too, we find the unfortunate individual who 
makes too much of an advance. He attains fitness for 
a social environment better than exists. His qualities 
are those of the future, and as much out of place as 
those required by the past. His neighbors fail to under- 
stand him, he becomes an object of neglect, and when 
the difference is great of suspicion and dislike. He 
wishes to go faster than those around him, and to in- 
duce them to keep up with him. In short he is some 
kind of reformer. If unable tp communicate his spirit 
to the community in which he lives, he must discard 
or repress his own peculiar thought and feeling, and 
be content with that of the community. If he wan- 
ders on alone his isolation from others is death to him 
sooner or later. Persecution may or may not take his 
life directly, but neglect, misrepresentation, suspicion, 
loneliness, and every kind of discouragement, finally 
drive him to invalidism and a premature death, suffering 
for the sins or moral deficiency of others, and leaving 
few or no children to inherit his untimely goodness or 



SOCIAL SELECTION I9I 

wisdom. Jesus, Socrates, Gallileo, and all the promi- 
nent reformers, are examples of this type. Their unfit- 
ness for the society of their time may be as great as that 
of the criminal, whose qualities adapt him only to a very 
low social condition ; and thus by what seems to many 
a strange regulation of things, the reformer and the 
criminal meet with a similar fate. Each attempts to 
force the ideas belonging to a few upon the whole body, 
and encounters its resistance. Too little development 
and too much are equally undesirable to the social mass, 
hence equally unadapted to the social conditions. Na- 
ture, we may say, insists on having the whole mass go 
along nearly together ; one who is much ahead or be- 
hind — superior or inferior — is the unfortunate one to be 
selected out or exterminated. On the contrary one who, 
in all respects equal to the mass, can take a very small 
step in advance, becomes at once the admired leader of 
the whole, and insures his ow^n greatest good along with 
that of the entire social body he leads. 

Of the two unfortunate classes, the memory of the 
criminal remains in disgrace ; that of the reformer, after 
some scores or hundreds of years, when the general ad- 
vance of his people has nearly reached his own, becomes 
respectable, grand, glorious, even that of a god. During' 
life the criminal may by education and discipline acquire 
some imperfect adaptation to social surroundings ; the 
reformer, if earnest, can live only by discovering or 
making a new habitat, — that is, by developing a new 
religion or a new social state. 

I have said that Nature's purpose in all this was ulti- 
mately to produce perfection. But while she produces 
new varieties, some of which are able to find new 
sources of food or. a new habitat, she at the same time 
adapts the old species more perfectly to its surround- 
ings, which may be quite unfit for a superior race ; and 



192 NATURAL AND 

thus many of the inferior forms of life are able to con- 
tinue their existence. So of the inferior races of men, 
and the inferior forms of society. They still hold their 
ground, and will as long as the superior ones do not 
need to encroach upon them. They do not improve in 
any way ; they aim only to so adapt themselves to cir- 
cumstances that they can live. Of such the Chinese 
furnish a good example. European peoples have come 
to perceive that they can not only adapt themselves to 
their conditions, but can improve the environment and 
themselves also. This perception makes the difference 
between the progressive condition of Europe and Amer- 
ica, and the stationary condition of Asia and Africa. As 
yet however the idea has but little influence. Very little, 
compared to what might be, has ever been done by 
society toward its own improvement, or to give the indi- 
vidual a fair opportunity to perfect himself. , That is to 
come in the future, after society shall have attained to a 
knowledge of itself and its power, — when, like the indi- 
vidual, it has gained its consciousness of comparative 
freedom, and superiority to circumstance. At present the 
individual, except in rare cases, can only adjust himself 
to the social environment as it is, without expecting to 
make much progress. Sometime, society, with its pow- 
er a million times greater than that of any individual, 
may be wise enough to use that power for the preserva- 
tion of its highest class, now equally unfortunate with the 
criminal ; and instead of preserving and perpetuating its. 
criminal and parasite classes, will by education on one 
hand and supression on the other, eliminate them entire- 
ly. Society as yet has no idea of doing as much for its 
members, in comparative effect, as an ignorant farmer 
does for his flock of sheep. 

Meantime the old process of selection by blind natural 
means must still go on, killing out by slow tortures the 
weakest and least fit members of the social body ; those 



SOCIAL SELECTION I93 

also who, though fit and qualified by nature, are born 
into unfavorable circumstances ; and those who by ad- 
vancing- too fast have become fitted for a better social 
condition. Cruel and wasteful the method is — horribly 
cruel and wasteful — but no other is possible till society 
has gained intelligence sufficient to become superior to 
it, and to accomplish an equal or greater progress by 
humane instrumentalities. Suffering tends to develop 
intelligence, and we may reasonably hope that the 
needed wisdom and humanity of sentiment will some- 
time be attained. 

We must not however be unjust to Natural Selection. 
Its method, though tedious and cruel, is better than 
none. If there were no causes operating to destroy the 
weak and unworthy this human world would probably 
be crowded with idiots, lunatics, cripples and invalids, 
with reckless, unprincipled and criminal wretches, who 
althogether would make life a burden too grievous to be 
borne by even the most fortunate. Part of the evil has 
been taken away from us by Selection ; and through its 
aid we shall ourselves at last be able to throw off the 
greater part of what remains. 

It is the development and selection of intelligence and 
morality, in other words, the adaptation of man to soci- 
ety, that will finally enable society to take selection out 
of the hands of its mother Nature, and to do the same 
work more efficiently as well as humanely. What moral 
progress is yet made acts more in opposition to Natural 
Selection than in cooperation with it. It is the humane 
sentiment that gives the criminal the benefit of every 
doubt, and virtually encourages him in crime, besides 
leaving him at liberty to generate a dozen other crimi- 
nals, to succeed himself when finally killed by some one 
of his own class. It is the sympathy and tenderness 
fostered by society that cares for all our invalids, luna- 
tics, idiots and beggars, keeping them alive, and e.na- 



194 NATURAL AND 

bling them to add still other invalids, lunatics, paupers 
and idiots to the next generation. It might be fairly 
questioned if every physician is not more of a curse than 
a blessing to society, provided he really accomplishes 
much in the saving of life. Regarding lawyers the ques- 
tion would be still more allowable. In these and similar 
ways, prompted by goodness, but without sufficient 
wisdom, the race helps to retard its own progress. But 
in the future this, like all other drawbacks, will be over- 
come by a further increase of intelligence and of the 
social spirit, till the blind and cruel method of Nature 
shall be superseded by a wiser and gentler one of man. 
Let no one suppose, however, that I would abridge the 
life or comfort of any one now living; I would only 
prevent the transmission of their miseries to others. 

To Nature pain, wounds, disease, death are nothing. 
A million lives may be lost, or a hundred generations 
live and die without improvement ; but when the oppor- 
tunity appears she avails herself of it and makes a step 
in advance. The counteracting influences, the loss of 
previous attainments, the waste of power, may be great, 
yet some little advantage is gained. A civilization may 
go down, but in place of it there is a new race capable 
of greater advancement. The sick, infirm, deformed and 
vicious may be saved against her intent, but an addi- 
tional fitness for society is at the same time acquired. 
Unwise Religion may persecute and millions die for 
heresy, but at last the idea of total self-conquest be- 
comes understood. And so, in spite of all hindrances, 
something is accomplished toward the evolution of a 
perfect race, which shall ultimately, through gentle 
means, take the place of all inferior ones, occupy the 
■whole earth, and bring forth the perfect societ3^ 

What now, is the moral lesson that Natural Selection 



SOCIAL SELECTION I95 

teaches to the individual ? There is one, and one of no 
httle importance. It is this, — that while one factor in 
the complex cause of all he suffers is chance or misfor- 
tune, the other factor is his own shortcoming-. This, 
too, is misfortune in the larger sense, but it is that over 
which he has some control. The proportion of one to 
the other may vary indefinitely, but both of them are 
present. Aside from what Fortune does, Nature or 
Natural Selection gives him what he deserves. A cer- 
tain part of his unhappiness is because he has not ad- 
justed himself to the persons and things around him, or 
not sought for a more congenial environment. If he 
complains his complaint lies, in the average of cases, as 
much against himself as against his ill luck, whether 
that comes from inanimate causes, or from the influence 
of other persons. The lesson then is one of self-criti- 
cism. If he possesses but little of what he desires, let 
him set aside the effects due to bad luck, and see if his 
own deserts entitle him to anything more than what re- 
mains. Let him separate the part of Fortune from his 
own part, and if he criticises himself as thoroughly and 
severely as he is disposed to criticise everything else, an 
improvement will be likely to result. 

To give this some illustration, we may say that one 
who makes health an object of sufficient thought and 
care will, as a general thing, possess health ; while one 
who cares little, thinks less, and learns nothing about it, 
deserves to lose what he may chance to have, and is 
sure to do so sooner or later. It goes to, or remains 
with, the one who best appreciates and uses it, on whom 
it confers most happiness, and who is therefore best fit to 
have it. In regard to property, one who has the quality 
of mind that loves money, and the self-control to retain 
it, with energy to make proper effort, will, in a majority 
of cases, secure more or less of it ; whereas, if poverty is 
his lot, he is probably lacking in these qualities, in a 



196 NATURAL AND 

majority of cases, and sets his desires more upon some- 
thing else. It appropriately belongs, within certain lim- 
its as to amount, where it can be best appreciated, and 
preserved. If position is the object, the one who has 
the ambition to climb, and the kind of talent to secure it, 
is for both these reasons the best fitted to have it. And 
so when knowledge is the object sought, the matter is so 
plain every one will admit that the one who can best 
appreciate and use is the one who will obtain it ; for the 
talent that enables him to desire, appreciate and use is 
the talent that will enable him to acquire ; while the one " 
who fails is the one to whom knowledge would be less 
useful if possessed. 

It is now easy to see, too, that if the element of good 
or ill fortune can be removed by social action, so that 
competition for either of the things mentioned will be 
equal and fair to all, the effect of Selection will be to 
push every one into that situation or employment for 
which he is best fitted, and where he can be most useful 
to himself and to society, 

Self-criticism is thus not only necessary for the indi- 
vidual's own good, but is due to those around him ; for 
by taking blame to himself he avoids putting it upon 
others. Moreover, by refraining from injustice to them, 
he will more easily secure their good will and assistance, 
in his battle against whatever ill fortune may be in his 
lot. 

Wherein he finds himself successful and happy, it will 
likewise be well for him to discount the good fortune, 
and discover how much is due to his own good qualities 
only. The practice may save him from getting light- 
headed, and enable him to avoid some disappointment. 
In the part that is owing to chance he may find the 
influence of certain persons toward whom he should feel 
grateful or at least considerate. In every way the criti- 
cism will prove to be a most excellent discipline, both 



SOCIAL SELECTION 19/ 

for his own benefit and that of all with whom he asso- 
ciates. * 

There is one special consideration the unfortunate 
should remember, — one that has never received suffi- 
cient attention. Every form of weakness, ignorance, 
carelessness, inability to protect oneself, and every 
submission to injustice, is a direct temptation to the self- 
ishness of human nature. We habitually blame others 
for what may seem an unprovoked attack upon us, when 
our own feebleness is an encouragement to imposition, 
insult, robbery, or whatever the offence may be ; and 
when if we were strong in all respects no attempt to 
abuse us would be made. It may or may not be correct 
to say that one who offers temptation is equally to blame 
with the one who offends ; but there is at least some 
fault in the victim. Nature allows no excuse for the 
weakness, and it is punished by some one ever ready to 
take advantage of it for selfish purposes. Only. when 
the Unselfish Stage of human evolution shall be reached 
will this be different. 

We have not yet considered Fortune itself. How will 
the man of scientific thought feel regarding that.? Pre- 
cisely as he now feels regarding what he knows to be 
the inevitable. So far as the causes of it'may be change- 
able in future, though he could not previously have an- 
ticipated or guarded against them, he will exert himself 
to make the future better. So far as he can learn a les- 
son from good luck also he will do it, and thus put 
himself in the way of further good luck. But in a matter 
entirely beyond his power to change he will view it just 
as an animal appears to do ; having no one to praise or 
blame for it, no need of being either grateful or com- 
plaining, for one or the other. If good he rejoices over 
it ; if bad he escapes as quickly as possible, and makes 
the best of what remains to him. Regret, sorrow^, agony 
it may produce in him, but no bitterness of feeling. The 



198 NATURAL AND 

causes of it are or were beyond the control, or the an- 
ticipation, of any person. The temporary indignation 
that would destroy a material thing to prevent any pos- 
sible future harm, may exist for the moment, but soon 
passes away. The life still before him may be looked 
upon as a new life, into which he is just born, with 
whatever abilities, defects, and chances may yet be 
his ; and if worth living he will set about living it in the 
best manner possible, putting behind him regrets and 
thoughts of what might have been — if — knowing well 
there was no if. There is a great difference between 
getting reconciled to what is known to have been the in- 
evitable, and becoming so reconciled to what is not 
known to have been such, but is believed to have been 
susceptible of change. Having this knowledge the man 
of scientific thought is the best prepared of any to meet 
whatever fate may be in store. 

The conviction that while the past has been inevitable, 
the future depends largely upon our knowledge and 
character, is an inspiration to effort ; while honest self- 
criticism discloses our true situation, and prepares for 
wiser action. With it we come into a favorable condi- 
tion for learning whatever may be necessary. Na- 
ture insists upon complete fitness for everything before 
she lets up on our pains and penalties. Nothing less 
than fully developed intellect, and full-grown moral 
character, will enable us to escape from her clutch, and 
from the liability to suffering and premature death. She 
watches for every defect in our constitution or conduct 
through which we can be made to suffer. Every weak 
place where we can be broken or bent ; every sore point 
that can be irritated; every species of ignorance through 
which we can be waylaid; every moral inability by 
which our fellows can be turned against us ; every imper- 
fect development in our mental or physical nature ; and 
every lack of a warning experience ; all will be seized 



SOCIAL SELECTION I99 

upon and used against us, till at last, through much 
tribulation, we are driven into that wise condition where 
we know what she requires of us for our own good, and 
are willing to comply with all her demands. Then the 
time of our release has come, and with it our certainty 
of happiness. 



^^'~^\jS\B^^!^ 



CHAPTER IX. 

NATURAL AND SOCIAL SELECTION. 

Continued, 



THE same competition or rivalry that goes on in the 
lower world, and is called the struggle for life, is 
going on in every part and function of organized society, 
— as it always has gone on, and to some extent, or in a 
modified way, probably always will. The whole work 
and activity of society is an exchange of service of one 
kind or another, or of the products of service ; the worker 
receiving something for what he gives or does which en- 
ables him to live, and satisfy his own wants. All who 
do not give service, or products of labor in some way, 
are exceptions to the general rule, such as children and 
invalids, dependent on the individual, and the pauper, 
and criminal classes, living at the expense of the social 
body. 

There is no need of saying what competition means in 
regard to trade and manufacture. Every laborer for 
hire knows too well what competition for employment 
means. Competition between nations has been so much 
discussed in this country during late presidential elec- 
tions that every voter, at least, ought to understand 
something of what is meant by that. Every politician is 
supposed to know about competition for office, and for 



SOCIAL SELECTION 20I 

governmental favors. In the same way every trade and 
profession has within itself a certain amount of compe- 
tition for the profits and rewards of that occupation. In 
all these cases it is the individual struggling for his own 
benefit directly or indirectly. 

Man is originally unsocial ; that is, selfish, working 
only for himself individually, or the few most nearly con- 
nected with him. Before political society began, Natural 
Selection wrought only for the individual's benefit. It 
made him the strongest, giving him success in proportion 
to strength, shrewdness, and selfish determination. These 
qualities enabled him to obtain the best arms, the most 
property, the highest position, the best home, the most 
beautiful woman ; and to leave children, who, at the 
start, could have a better chance than their competitors 
in the universal struggle for life. 

This natural selfish and reckless competition ends in 
all sorts of ineq-uality. The strong hand, and the un- 
scrupulous disposition, come to decide every contest, 
and to appropriate what is most desirable. It is so at 
the beginning of society, and in a less extreme way it is 
so still. Whenever present society becomes partially 
disorganized, by political revolution, by pestilence, fam- 
ine, or any disorder, the tendency to go back to this 
primitive state of things is plainly apparent. Man has 
been compelled by necessity to become partially social, 
to be less selfish, to pay some regard to justice. The 
tendency of organized society is directly in opposition to 
the unrestrained selfishness of the primitive man ; and 
its principal work, as will be more apparent farther on, 
is to convert his natural selfishness into unselfishness. 
Yet in spite of this, in every civilized community the 
conditions of the people still grow more and more un- 
equal with every advance of knowledge, and its appli- 
cation to art and industry. The nearest approach to 
equality is in the state of barbarism. Everywhere above 



202 NATURAL AND 

that stage we find extremes of riches and poverty, of 
education and ignorance, of nobleness and meanness, of 
respectabiHty and degradation. In the great cities of 
civilization where is the greatest wealth, luxury, and cul- 
ture, there is the extremest poverty, the lowest degrada- 
tion, the most fiendish crime. 

In the numberless wars of conquest in which stronger 
and weaker tribes and nations have struggled for the 
better parts of the earth's surface, its soil, timber, min- 
erals, and all natural resources, — which by simple jus- 
tice belong equally to the whole population, and to 
every new generation as much as to the last, — these 
have been distributed among the powerful leaders of 
victorious armies ; and thus all over Europe the greater 
part of the soil comes to be held by a few princes, 
nobles, aristocrats of various names, and their favorites, 
who are thus immensely rich, while a large proportion 
of the people remain poor for want of their natural in- 
heritance. In England and Wales, for instance, there is 
more land lying idle in the parks and game-grounds of 
the aristocracy than is contained in the whole kingdom 
of Belgium, which supports six millions of people. In 
Asia, which has been conquered over and over so many 
times, the rulers, who control the soil, live in luxury on 
the heavy taxes drawn from the miserably poor who cul- 
tivate it. A large part of the Western world has been 
given or sold in large tracts to the favorites of the con- 
querors, or of the politicians who govern. And even in 
our own country, where professedly some consideration 
is given to the rights of the masses, their wild land is 
sold for a song, or donated for premature railroads, in 
tracts large enough for counties and kingdoms, to native 
and foreign depredators and speculating corporations, 
utterly regardless of those who will need to occupy it in 
future, and of the present class of small farmers, who 



SOCIAL SELECTION 203 

are threatened with perpetual poverty by the competition 
of such large landowners. In the same manner the gov- 
erning politicians have at various times sold or given 
away mines, forests, fisheries, and water-powers, all 
over the country, and the fortunate possessors of them 
have accumulated wealth, and founded rich families, on 
what was thus acquired from the common stock. Na- 
ture has given all this advantage to the strongest, the 
most crafty, the most unscrupulous, as well as most 
enterprising, in spite of whatever efforts are made to 
prevent, just as she gives the best wild fruit on a tree to 
the strongest, quickest, most enterprising ape in the 
African forest. 

These are the effects that appear in taking one view of 
the general result of inequality produced by Natural 
Selection. Let us see further how it works in trade and 
industry. 

All are sufficiently familiar with the ordinary opera- 
tions of trade and manufacture, and with the tricks, 
traps, frauds, and brazen-faced falsehood by which 
traders deceive their customers, and try to get the best 
of their competitors. Leaving out of account the few 
honest dealers, who are compelled to defend themselves 
by all fair efforts to secyre trade, the spirit of the com- 
niercial world is the same as that of the animal world, 
which uses every kind of artifice to catch its prey, and to 
elude its stronger enemies. The gambler, who by his 
deceptive methods takes something for nothing, is per- 
haps the most extreme representative of it ; the small 
storekeeper, who aims to get a profit beyond pay for 
time and labor, shows its most moderate form. It is the 
desire to get something for nothing, or much for little, 
by whatever means may be available and necessary. 
The poorest have it as well as all the more fortunate ; 



204 NATURAL AND 

and with few exceptions would be glad of any chance to 
get rich by the ordinary methods. 

The trade competition has for its good result the pro- 
duction of the capable and systematic business man, 
who in most cases performs useful service in distributing 
products, without any very excessive reward for his 
exertions. In a less number of instances it is now well 
known that the strong, the greedy, the unscrupulous 
gain advantages over the rest, and build up fortunes at 
the cost of their unsuccessful rivals, as well as of all who 
are their customers. The small merchant and the small 
manufacturer are constantly being driven out of busi- 
ness, and their trade absorbed, by those who have big 
capitals and established custom. The city dealer takes 
trade from the one in the country. The small farmer is 
becoming extmct in some parts of Europe ; and though 
still holding on among ourselves, his time will come. 
Even the small preacher and the small editor have their 
business taken away by the big ones in the large cities. 
And the poor laborer who is not tough enough to live 
cheerfully on poor diet, with a miserable shelter, loses 
the chance to sell his labor, and gives place to one who 
can. The poor, the weak, the unfortunate are constantly 
being displaced, and their trade or opportunities ap- 
propriated by those more capable or more unscrupulous 
as the case may be. 

The element of chance has been all the time present, 
and taking advantage of this, Nature has produced men 
of big properties, just as she takes advantage of favoring 
circumstances to produce big trees. You may say if 
you choose that the man himself takes his opportunity 
to collect a great mass of wealth ; but the tree may be 
said to do the same, and both act for themselves accord- 
ing to natural methods, and by means of natural forces, 
under natural promptings to action. 

We now see that the result through trade and industry 



SOCIAL SELECTION 205 

is the same as the result from war, and spoliation by- 
force. The spirit of both are similar ; in both it is the 
same as that of the animal. The difference is that force 
and violence being forbidden under the industrial regime, 
the trader accomplishes his ends by friendship, decep- 
tion, and fraud.* 

But it is not yet fully understood how the great land- 
holding, mercantile, manufacturing, and transportiiig 
princes come to be all alike monopolists, and spoliators 
of the less fortunate. This it is necessary to make plain. 

As before stated, whatever natural resources exist up- 
on the surface of the globe belong naturally and right- 
fully to each generation of men that successively occupy 
it. The soil, waters, minerals, timber, wild game, fish 
and fruits, are in this category of natural resources. The 
doctrine is a very old one, once so self-evident that no- 
body questioned it ; and is still acknowledged true by a 
number of the political economists, besides being special- 
ly asserted by Mr. Henry George and others, who of late 
have made it so familiar to the American people, f The 
ownership of land in fee simple grew out of the Euro- 
pean feudal system, as an improvement upon that rob- 
ber scheme, by which the strong chiefs of conquering 
armies had become possessors of nearly all Western 
Europe. Fee-simple ownership has disposed of the 
largest part of the American continent, has converted 
land, mines, water-powers, lakes, timber and oil into 
commodities, and made them objects of trade like every- 
thing else. Whoever obtains a tract of land where a 
young city or village can grow up has a piece of good 



* Those who have never learned that trade is largely a modified form of war may 
find it well illustrated in an article in the Popular Science Monthly for Jan., 1888, 
by David A. Wells, showing how all the commercial nations take measures to pro- 
tect their own trade frpm the damaging influence of aggressive traders in other 
countries. 

tOne of the strongest statements of it was made nearly forty years ago, by Her- 
bert Spencer in his " Social Statics." chap. 9. 

4 



206 NATURAL AND 

fortune that enables him to gather wealth, not through 
his own labor, but that of others, in return for which he 
gives back to them fhis land, that was theirs at first, and 
should have remained in their possession. If another 
by the same good fortune gets possession of land on 
which oil is found, or any valuable mineral or timber, he 
has the same opportunity to make money out of what 
should be the property of the whole community. He 
obtains a monopoly of a certain commodity or privilege, 
of greater value than his labor could pay for, and by 
having it becomes rich. No other one is allowed any 
opportunity to obtain it, or to share in it, as all might 
have done had it remained in the original common own- 
ership. All opportunity for a share being taken away 
from the many, and given to the single one, constitutes 
a gross violation of natural justice.* 

The fact that land, with its contents, is limited in quan- 
tity, and like products, can be divided up and got pos- 
session of, gives no justification for making it property, 
nor can render such property legitimate. . Neither can 
labor spent in its cultivation. The original soil given by 
Nature, however poor in fertility , is, like air, water, and 
sunshine, an indispensable condition of all animal and 
vegetable life — one of the four things without which no 
life can exist ; and it is for this reason, and because it is 
capable of being made productive, that it belongs to the 
whole race. It is the universal storehouse from which 
every living thing that occupies it, directly or indirectly 
draws its food-supply. By exclusion from it man can 
be deprived of life as truly as by exclusion from air or 
water, or the plant by exclusion from the sunlight 
through which it is enabled to grow. Neither if it were 
all cultivated, and all its produce exchanged, would those 

* Mr. George, in reasserting the right of the whole people to the land, with all 
it contains, and especially to that increase of value given it by the building up of 
towns, has done society an excellent service, and is entitled to much credit for 
his earnestness, whatever may be the fate of his scheme to recover the rent value 
of land to the state, by a tax upon land property only. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 20/ 

facts constitute an excuse for monopolistic ownership, un- 
less every adult person was assured the opportunity to 
exchange an equal amount of labor for its produce ; and 
then there would be no object in possessing. The occu- 
pant who, by cultivation, has made it better than nature 
gave it has the best claim to the use of that particular 
spot he has improved. And, by the same reasoning, 
one who has impoverished it can rightfully be compelled 
to live on his deteriorated soil till he dies, or till he 
brings it up to its natural quality. 

Though the other natural resources — those contained 
in, or belonging to, the land and waters — are not indis- 
pensable to life, as is the soil, they are indispensable to 
comfort and progress ; and being equally the bounty of 
Nature, it is self-evident that no one can make any bet- 
ter claim to them than another, or obtain any title that 
will be valid for more than one generation. 

Now, in what way does the class of persons who mo- 
nopolize these natural resources differ from the merchant 
monopolist, who claims to be no monopolist at all, but 
trades freely and fairly with whoever comes to him, al- 
lowing everyone else the same chance.? Yet he has a 
large trade, by whose profits he has become much richer 
than the average of men, while by having a large capi- 
tal he can keep his trade, and destroy the business of 
any less wealthy man who attempts to compete with 
him. He is thus a monopolist, but of what.? Not of the 
metals, coal, oil, or timber on the earth's surface, nor 
even its wild animals ; but of the trade from a consid- 
erable number of its human inhabitants. Havinof their 
trade the result to him is the same as if he had their 
service for a certain time as slaves. They each give 
him a small percentage (very small perhaps) more than 
Ihey receive from him. in his services, and this, which is 
his profit, is sufficient to make him wealthy. He then 
uses his wealth to retain that trade or increase it — to pre- 



208 NATURAL AND 

vent any one else from getting any share of it — till he 
has accumulated a fortune far beyond the average. As 
long as he re+ains his opportunity certain others have no 
opportunity. The opportunities that would exist if he 
had only a small business, sufficient to give him a com- 
petence merely in return for his labor, are taken away 
from others, and retained by him as his monoply of 
trade. Legally any one is free to compete with him, 
but practically no one can do so without a capital as 
large as his own ; all poorer men, unless they can com- 
bine their strength, are shut out from the game. 

Most persons will say this man found or made his op- 
portunity by hard work, prudence, careful study, and 
enterprise ; and therefore deserves all he can gain be- 
cause he did better than his fellows. That he deserves 
greater success than one who makes less effort is true. 
And he who by his thought, skill, boldness and energy 
opens a new source of employment and wealth, is enti- 
tled to all the credit and goo*d will he receives, besides 
something more than the ordinary in his material reward. 
But the successful man did not make his customers, nor 
make their necessities. Both of these existed on the soil 
beforehand. Population and its wants constitute a natu- 
ral source of wealth as truly as any of those before 
named. Those wants creat-e the demand for every kind 
of labor, in both production and distribution, to supply 
them. They are what every one must depend upon to 
give him opportunity and pay for his labor, unless he 
goes back to barbarism, and clothes himself in skins. 
Population and its wants are what every one finds when 
he comes into the world, as naturally produced as soil, 
water, or mines. To the merchant, — and no less to the 
manufacturer, or transporter, who also supplies the 
wants of population, — they are natural resources of a 
different kind, which he works upon, and draws wealth 
from, as truly as does the miner from his lode. He uses 



SOCIAL SELECTION 209 

his brains to find, and take advantage of, the oppor- 
tunity they furnish, just as another man uses his brains 
and energy to utilize the timber on his land, or turn the 
soil into wheat, or kill the wild bison for his skin. He 
does not make use of his fellow men as directly as does 
a slaveholder, but indirectly he induces them to give him 
a profit from the results of their labor — something more 
than the mere average pay for his services. If he se- 
cures a large custom, and holds it long enough to get 
rich, he becomes a monopolist of trade, and of other 
men's natural opportunities, precisely like one who 
monopolizes land, or the wild pine forest that grows on 
it. He thus deprives others of their natural share, and 
their natural opportunity for employment. 

It is not the intention here to condemn the great mer- 
chants, manufacturers or transporters, or the corpora- 
tions, trusts, and syndicates they form, as being extortion- 
ate beyond others in the prices demanded for their prod- 
ucts or service. On the contrary, the economies of the 
large scale have enabled them to reduce such prices ; 
and competition, or some one motive or another has 
influenced them to do so as a general thing. They exert 
a downward pressure upon wages, as do smaller opera- 
tors ; and by their use of improved machinery and proc- 
esses, they throw men out of employment faster, prob- 
ably, than would their small competitors in doing the 
same amount of business ; in this respect being worse 
only by doing things in a larger way. Their real crime, 
like that of all the rest, consists in appropriating a part 
of the just reward of labor, by taking higher prices, or 
paying lower wages, than would be necessary under a 
different system ; and in monopolizing the opportunities 
of other men, by throwing some out of employment, and 
keeping out others, thus depriving them of their natural 
right to labor, one of the first and most important of all 
rights, and which, as proved by the hundreds of suicides- 



2[0 NATURAL AND 

occurring every year from want of work, is truly their 
right to live.^ In doing this however, they are no worse 
than the system that produces them, — no worse than 
the popular sentiment that honors a millionaire for 
his wealth, and thus encourages him to accumulate vast 
amounts of it for the sake of distinction. 

To make the nature of the case evident in another way, 
let us resort to a few figures. In this country at the last 



* One specimen of these cases is given below, as found in a N. Y. daily paper, 
February 15th of the present year. The heartlessness developed by the condi- 
tions and methods of business enables people to read of such instances day after 
day with a hardened indiflference, that never takes the trouble to inquire if there 
is any injustice in society, or if there will ever be any less number of suicides. 

" On the top floor of the tenemeut 316 West Thirty-ninth street, shortly before 
noon yesterday, GeoKge Wick, 20 years old, a painter, cut his throat from ear to 
ear after failing in an attempt upon the life of his wife. He lived in two small 
rooms with his wife, Amelia, and their 3 months' old baby boy. Wick had been 
out of work for fourteen weeks. Though he is said to have tried hard, he failed 
to secure emj)loyment, even at odd jobs, and became despondent. 

" Members of "the West Thirty-fifth street Presbyterian Church, where he attend- 
ed services, heard of his condition, and knowing his case to be a worthy one, 
helped to pay the rent of his rooms. Wick's parents, and those of his wife, who 
are all poor people, also helped the unfortunate couple as much as their own slen- 
der means would allow. Wick went out to look for work yesterday morning, and 
returned more than ever disheartened. Calling his wife into their bedroom he 
exhibited a bottle of laudanum, and said sadly that they would both be better off 
dead. 

" He spoke kindly and didn't act like a crazy person," said his wife to a Press re- 
porter last night. " He had talked to me once before in the same strain, and I had 
persuaded him to change his mind, saying that we would struggle along somehow, 
and that everything would come right in the end. I talked cheerfully to him 
yesterday, too, but he said there was no hope for us. Then he put the bottle to his 
lips. I snatched it away, and in the struggle most of the poison was spiUed. 
Then he seemed to become frantic. His razor lay on the washstand and he 
grabbed that. I tried to take it from him and he caught me by the throat. There 
were tears in his eyes then. 

•"You must come, too,' he told me. ' I can't leave you behind to suffer alone.' 
As he pushed the razor up against my throat I screamed, and, tearing away from 
him, ran out of the room. Some of the tenants heard my cry and ran into the 
hall. I remembered my baby lying in the rocker, and thought if George killed 
him he might just as well kill me, too, so I started back. Just as I entered the 
room George staggered out of the bedroom covered with blood. He looked at me a 
moment and I saw two big tears roll down his cheeks. Then he put his hands up 
to his temples and fell down dead before I could reach him." 

" During this recital, Mrs. Wick, who is a slender blonde, sobbed bitterly. Her 
busband, she said, had always treated her kindly, and the neat appearance of their 
rooms evidenced the fact that she was a tidy housewife. Ugly scratches on her 
throat tell of her struggle for life. Wicks was inspired for enough to give him a 
decent burial. His remains will be taken to the Lutheran Cemetary to-morrow. 

" Philip Wick, the dead man's father, said his son had called on him that morn- 
ing and had seemed cheerful. There was nothing in his ai^pearance or his con- 
duct to suggest what was evidently in his mind at the time. 

" Mrs. Wick's mother, Mrs. AmeUa Ott of 354: West Fortieth street, called at the 
suicide's apartments and induced the heartbroken widow to go home with her. 
As she took her baby from a sympathetic neighbor, Mrs. Wick burst into tears 
and moaned: ' Poor baby ! Thank heaven you can't realize what has happened.' " 

The same paper of a later date makes tne statement that "in the city of New 
York alone seventy-eight people committed suicide because they ' could not get 
work,' during the past year," (1888.) Press, March 13, '89. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 211 

census there were not far from fifty millions of people, 
and their total wealth not far from forty billions of dol- 
lars ; while the increase of wealth is at nearly the same 
rate as the increase of population. Divide the forty bil- 
lions among the fifty millions, and it gives eight hundred 
dollars to each person as the average possession of prop- 
erty. If the whole property could pass into the hands 
of millionaires, then to every million that went into the 
hands of the rich there would be twelve hundred and fifty 
(1250) persons who would have nothing. But as it is still 
far from being so unequally divided, there is a much 
smaller number of the poor to one who has a single 
million, besides many who have a little more or less than 
eight hundred. With competition tending constantly 
toward inequality, however, those who have little are 
continually at the risk of losing it, and of increasing the 
number of the poor, as their property increases the 
wealth of the rich. 

The millionaire does not, as a general thing, take di- 
rectly from those who have little, but from those who 
also have wealth, some of them rivals, who compete 
with him in speculative enterprises at a loss. The 
less wealthy in turn draw from any who may not be 
able to resist, and these last from still others, till finally, 
a certain number must die with nothing, in order that 
certain others may have a great amount. 

A considerable proportion of the poor are of those born 
such, and who ncA^er make any suitable exertion to be 
otherwise. Another portion is of the sickly and feeble, 
and another of those who are careless, wasteful, extrav- 
agant, or morally defective. Still another part, how 
large or small there is no means of knowing, consists 
of those who, notwithstanding industrious habits, good 
character, and proper effort, yet fail to obtain their share, 
and end by accumulating nothing. Who are they.? They 
are respectable men and women, constantly coming into 



212 NATURAL AND 

the industrial world, but being without powerful friends, 
capital or a brazen cheek, never find a fair opportunity, 
— never have sufficient employment to enable them to 
make any gain, their chance being monopolized by 
some one who gets rich. To make a suppositious esti- 
mate of their number, and leaving aside all the poor by 
their own fault, let us say that where one man obtains a 
hundred thousand dollars, — the average shares of over a 
hundred persons — there are five of those who will be 
poor in spite of willingness to labor and to save. If the 
rich one acquires a million there will be fifty of such 
deserving poor. When his million has increased to 
twenty millions there will be a thousand of the poor, 
who with their children, fifteen hundred more, are enough 
to make up the population of a good-sized village. Let 
this man of twenty millions still increase his wealth till 
it amounts to a hundred millions, as some of our richest 
men have done, and there will be the population of a 
small city, twelve thousand five hundred (12,500) per- 
sons, Avho can never have anything beyond their daily 
necessities, in order that this one may have his hundred 
millions. All the while the big fortune is being rolled 
up they are coming into the business world — the larger 
part of them — but never finding the chance they seek ; 
while a smaller part are dropping down out of the. ranks 
of trade and labor, because their opportunities are taken 
away by an unscrupulous competition from capital in 
trade, and from an excess of labor in every kind of 
service. 

The estimated number here supposed may be too large 
or too small to agree with the actual. But even if there 
be only one worthy poor man or woman where there is 
assumed to be five, there are still far too many for the 
fact to be reconciled with justice. 

The competition from which they suffer is one which 
instead of bringing to the top the moral man, the one best 



SOCIAL SELECTION 213 

fitted for a happy society, favors the one who is most 
wilHng to be degraded. In labor it is the Chinaman, the 
Negro, the inferior white man of all nationalities, the 
one who can best live on poor food, in a shanty for a 
home, in woods, rocks, swamps, and all filthy and mala- 
rious localities, who quickest finds opportunity to work. 
The cheap, inferior, unsafe man comes to fill positions of 
trust and responsibility. In occupations requiring more 
intelligence it is the one who can be most servile. In 
trade it is the capitalist who with least regard for his con- 
science or his fellow men, uses his power to drive, or 
to keep, out of business all the men of small capitals, 
compelling these to crowd upon others less fortunate 
than themselves, that is most sure to succeed. The hon- 
est merchant, and the self-respecting workingman, both 
sufi'er that the one man may keep the opportunities that 
rightfully belong to a dozen, a hundred, or a thousand. 
For, the world's opportunities, let it be remembered, are 
what exist in its natural resources, including population ; 
and these belong to the whole people alike. The wants 
of population give all the possible opportunities for 
every kind of labor and exchange. No one has any 
moral right to shut out others from a fair and equal 
chance to labor and live. Na one in a civilized society 
should ever be able to get the power of doing so. Every 
natural means of getting a living belongs to all men and 
women equally, and trade is one of these. Every person 
who obtains much more than the average family share of 
wealth robs one or more of his fellows as truly, though 
not often as consciously, as if he took it out of their 
pockets. He does it through their ignorant willingness to 
give him profits that are not paid for in equal work, or 
else by monopolizing their natural opportunities for 
labor and trade. We can easily imagine how different it 
would be if every one could have a chance to take his 
turn in monopolizing either trade or high-salaried labor, 
for a limited time. 



214 NATURAL AND 

If any one wishes additional figures to bring out the 
results of monopoly, let him calculate how many must 
remain poor in his own village or city in order that the 
rich may acquire, not their millions only, but their hun- 
dred thousands, their fifty thousands, their twenty-five 
thousands ; making sure to count out all the lazy and 
thriftless, the children, invalids, and disabled. In a new 
country, where openings are ready for all, these classes 
may perhaps include all the poor there is ; but in this 
Eastern part of our country there will be plenty of 
others. If in looking around he sees only comfortable 
houses, and respectably dressed people, let him ascer- 
tain how many of those houses are rented by clerks, 
mechanics, and professional men who never have one of 
their own, and how many others are covered by mort- 
gages that will never be redeemed. Those he finds who 
inherit their wealth are simply the representatives of a 
past generation, of whom substantially the same things 
may be said as of this ; and several generations of poor 
men may have aided in the accumulation of what they 
now possess.* 

Here, then, we have the main secret of the great dis- 
pute between Capital and Labor, between Wealth and 
Poverty ; and here is the key to a final solution of the 
problem involved. It is in this monopoly of labor and 
trade, of which every one is guilty who holds on to his 
present advantage, to gather up a large fortune. Every 
one sees how the great landholder and the transporter 
are guilty ; but hardly any one suspects the great mer- 
chant of being equally guilty. As now made plain, all 
the rich, however their wealth has been gained, can see 
what their crime against society is ; a crime not in many 
cases by deliberate intent, but by inheritance, by cus- 

* It is scarcely necessary to point out how much this distribution of property 
resembles the lottery or gift enterprise which, in one form or another, is so com- 
mon a feature of the business life. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 215 

torn, by false moral education ; a crime which all, rich 
and poor alike, stand ready to commit, waiting only for 
a favorable chance. And until this view of the situation 
is generally known and accepted, no considerable ad- 
vance can be made toward a reconciliation of Labor and 
Capital, or a better distribution of wealth. 

Take another consideration to confirm the general 
truth of what has been said. In the carrying out of 
the present unscrupulous competition a large part of 
man's natural fortune in the earth's resources is wasted. 
In our country much of the once fertile soil has been 
made barren by reckless cropping till exhausted. The 
former wheat lands of New England, and the tobacco 
fields of the South were so treated, and are now com- 
paratively worthless. The waste of timber is going on 
in the same way. ''Before him man finds the sweet 
wilderness, behind him he leaves the desert," is the poet- 
ical way of expressing it, and in the old world this is 
literally true. Now, it is indisputable that one genera- 
tion of the earth's inhabitants are as well entitled, morally, 
to the use of its surface as another. But the generations 
succeeding us will find themselves heirs to worn-out 
lands, stripped of their fertility and natural wealth, be- 
cause the selfish, reckless men of this and former times 
have puffed it away in tobacco smoke, burned it up in 
careless fires, poured it into the sea in sewage, or built 
great needless piles of wood and stone for ostentatious 
distinction.* And all this criminal waste and huge in- 



*Tlie immense waste of sewage and garbage in cities and villages, which pol- 
lutes our streams and offends the eye in unoccupied places, every pound of which 
contains elements that make possible a pound of food at some future time, could 
probably be saved (although previous attempts have beeu mostly failures) I y a sys- 
tem of private alleys between streets, and a partial return to nature through the use 
of earth closets, in convenient ways that can be devised when the demand for them 
shall come. Yet hitherto man's efforts to utilize his animal and vegetal refuse 
have succeeded but pooily ; he has returned it to the soil in filthy, undecomposed 
manures, compelling his cultivated plants to feed on them, till his fruits and 
vegetables have become almost as full of disease as himself and his domestic ani- 
mals ; ready to rot, blight, and mildew at every unfavorable change in the soil or 
the weather. And still he calls himself civilized I 



2l6 NATURAL AND 

justice is a part of that evil fortune which is constantly- 
thwarting Nature's purpose, until the time when she, 
in spite of it, shall have developed mind of suffi- 
cient power to understand her ways, and assist her in 
her efforts toward human happiness through human 
perfection. 

To restate all this, with some variation, unlimited 
rivalry or free competition in society results in success 
of the strongest, the craftiest, the most unscrupulous, as 
well as most active and enterprising, just as in the ani- 
mal world. Whatever advantage one of these strong 
ones may gain he uses to gain more and still more. 
What he cannot accomplish alone he is shrewd enough 
to achieve by combining with others of the same sort, 
and in this manner the joint stock company, the big cor- 
poration, the political ring, ar^ able to do almost what- 
ever they desire. Thus we see that free competition 
ends in monopolies, and monopolies prevent any further 
free competition ; the process ends by suppressing itself. 
There comes a time when only the corporations, the big 
factories, the merchant princes, the great landowners 
can do any successful business ; and in place of a gen- 
eral and free competition we have a commercial and 
industrial feudalism, with its great captains of industry 
and transportation, and its great lords of trade. As long 
as the industrial barons compete with each other, trade, 
as ordinarily conducted, remains a species of war and 
robbery, carried on with less murderous weapons, and 
in a gentler manner, by which the life of the victim is 
shortened to a less extent. The workman or assistant 
under them is somewhat better off than the serf of 
former times, as long as he is able to work ; but he is 
still to a considerable degree a slave, and as a general 
thing must be cmitent with what the employer allows 



SOCIAL SELECTION 21/ 

him in wages or privileges. Servility is often demanded 
of him, and the most servile is the most fortunate.* 

Although trade has superseded war as a means of liv- 
ing, it is not wholly separated from it. In former times 
whole cities and their populations were destroyed to 
obtain trade, and the privilege of taxation, for the com- 
peting victor ; and in later ones force, along with fraud 
and diplomacy, has been resorted to when necessary, to 
make the customer submit. I have already mentioned 
India, China, and Africa as countries in which this opera- 
tion is now going on. Always it is the stronger, the 
wealthier nation which robs the weaker, or one less 
developed in its industry. It is with the same indiffer- 
ence to another's welfare that the big manufactory robs 
its smaller competitors of their trade, till they are com- 
pelled to retire from the contest, or retreat to new fields of 
custom. The large merchants crush out the smaller 
ones, and not content with taking away the oppor- 
tunities of those in their own line of trade, they assail 
those in other lines and ruin still more. The huge 
bazars set up a dozen different departments, and by 
•cheapening the goods in some attract custom and break 
up the trade of weaker dealers in all those lines, f Some 
of the more fortunate victims of this war are taken into 
the employ of the victors, much as in the old-time wars 
a man who was down was allowed to live on condition 
of becoming a slave. The less fortunate, reduced to 
poverty, and becoming worse and worse in their circum- 
stances, are finally killed by want, depression, anxiety, 



* Capitalism, the name given by the socialist to the industrial system of the 
■time, does not seem to me its truest name, though that describes one of its most 
prominent features, especially in the period since the disappearance of the old or 
military Fevidalism. Its deepest or most fundamental character is individual 
selfishness in purpose, demanding free competition as the proper condition of its 
a,ctivity. This individiialism has always characterized the world of trade, ancient 
as well as modern, and its competition has been that of the animal and the savage . 

t The big manufactory, the big railroad, and the big corporation of any kind, 
acts in so similar a manner that the devil-fish comparison, and the "octopus" 
name, have become familiar as api)lied to all of them. 



2l8 NATURAL AND 

starvation, disease and suicide ; their death never being- 
attributed to the original and true cause. 

This picture may to some seem overdrawn, but is it so 
in reality? In all the great centers of population in 
Western Europe and Eastern America this state of things 
already exists. The Industrial Feudalism predicted sixty 
years ago by a distinguished socialist* is now here, and 
needs only time to make itself universal. The only way 
of escape from it has been through emigration to the free 
opportunities of a new country ; but emigration will not 
be available always. Those who suffer from it make, 
with few exceptions, no complaint against the cause of 
their misery ; they have been taught the doctrine of free 
competition so long and so thoroughly they never think 
of doubting its propriety. And this condition of mind 
precisely suits those who prosper. Competition has en- 
abled them to monopolize ; and conscious of their pres- 
ent advantage they protest against any interference, with 
the freedom of trade in general, and of their own kind 
in particular. Every one who has a chance to profit 
wishes to be undisturbed in making the most of it So 
the American slaveholder used to cry out to be "let 
alone. " He wanted freedom to use, buy and sell slaves, 
and to extend the commerce in them over new territory. 
A great nation, when it had acquired the ability to 
manufacture and sell more cheaply than its neighbors, 
began to preach the Free Trade doctrine to the world, 
and has sent its literature here by the ton to convert its 
best customer and most effective opponent The liquor- 
seller, aware of having the slaves of alcohol in his 
power, wishes a free chance to sell, and fights with his 
money and his vote against all interference. And for a 
similar reason certain men believe in Free Love.f ''Let 

♦Charles Fourier. 

t The following sneer at woman's virtue comes from a Boston organ of extreme 
Individualism. 
" Not content with getting the "age of consent" raised from ten to thirteen, a 



SOCIAL SELECTION 219 

alone" thus becomes the cry of the tyrant and the rob- 
ber as readily as it does that of the oppressed. 

It is not necessary to accuse all these classes of people 
of deliberate wrong doing ; for, as a rule, men find a 
way to make their beliefs or their consciences agree with 
their selfish interests. And there is a proportion of gen- 
uine honest men among the upholders of all these kinds 
of freedom. There are theorists who sincerely believe 
in unlimited free trade of every sort, and teach it as the 
sum of all social wisdom.* They mean that unre- 
strained freedom to compete which ends in monopoly 
and slavery, — the freedom of the natural, selfish, unso- 
cial individual man, as against the right of society to 
take any measures toward its own improvement. To 
the unfortunate weaker party going down in the conflict 
they offer the insulting advice that a poor man should 
bring no children into the world till he is sure of being 
able to support and educate them ; a doctrine that has 
no applicability to the rich. The quality of the children 
is of no account in either case ; those of the poor man 
may be bright, healthy, and beautiful, those of the rich 
man idiotic, sickly and depraved, or vice versa, and it 
matters not. The only question is, can the parent sup- 
port them till they are grown up ? To me this seems, 
without exception, the most utterly selfish, heartless, 
and in every way base idea that ever was openly pub- 
lished to the world. The poor, it is not denied, are 
many of them reckless and brutal in their indifference to 
the prospective fate of their children ; but they have no 



bevy of impertinent and prndish women went up to the Massachusetts State 
House the other day and asked that it be raised again, — this time to eighteen. 
When a member of the legislative committee suggested that the age be placed at 
thirty-flve, since the offence aimed at was as much a crime at thirty-tive as 
eighteen, the petitioners did not seem to be terrified by his losric. Evidently 
these ladies are not afraid that their consent will ever be asked at all." Liberty, 
Feb. 11, 1888. 

*A pamphlet has been published in London which advocates the most unquali- 
fied freedom of the trade in alcoholic liquors, as the most effective means of 
securing general temperance. 



220 NATURAL AND 

ideas so unhumanly unjust as this one, born of English 
culture. 

These teachers, professors in colleges, editors of great 
newspapers, preachers of that gospel which Jesus 
brought to the common people and the humble, suffer- 
ing poor, they go yet farther, and say to the still more 
unfortunate victims of industrial warfare — those who are 
left with neither means nor employment — say to them in 
the words of Malthus, "a man who is born into a world 
already occupied, his family unable to support him, and 
society not requiring his labor, such a man has not the 
least right to claim any nourishment whatever ; he is 
really one too many on the earth. At the great banquet 
of Nature there is no plate laid for him. Nature com- 
mands him to take himself away, and she will not be slow 
to put her order into execution."* At present this man 
can be aided to emigrate ; but when emigration becomes 
too expensive or too difficult he is allowed no right to 
live, and has nothing to do but commit suicide, taking 
care to drown himself, with a heavy weight about his 
neck, to save other people the expense of his burial. 

To crown all, these teachers of economy, morals and 
politics, frankly tell us there is no hope of any material 
change in this condition of things. Mill, Spencer, and all 
the English economists, with their disciples on this side 
the water, are agreed that natural selection must con- 
tinue to operate in the manner it has always done and 
is now doing ; generation after generation of the unfortu- 
nate must suffer and die in their poverty and degradation ; 
the rich will continue to monopolize wealth, culture and 
luxury ; the man without capital or wealthy friends must 
be content, in this country as well as in Europe, to work 

* " Man neither does nor can possess a right to subsistence when his laljor will 
not fairly purchase it," "Society in furnishing employment and food to those 
who cannot get them in the regular market attempts to reverse the laws of na- 
ture." •• He who ceases to have the power to subsist ceases to have the right." 

These are further quotations from Malthus, — Essay on Population, Book, IV. 
Chap. VI. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 221 

for smaller and smaller wages, and finally be reduced to 
a bare subsistence, with a prospect of his employment 
being diminished by frequent periods of hard times, by 
additional labor-saving machinery, by lessening demand 
for products on the part of the unemployed, and by in- 
creasing difficulty of emigration ; pauperism and crime 
are to be struggled with as now ; till at last, in the course 
of centuries of misery, a better race shall be produced, 
and in some unknown way a better industrial condition 
be reached. * 

This is the truest representation of them that I can 
make ; for in all candor and honesty, I cannot see that 
they mean anything different. This is the program they 
submit to us, with all the confidence of men who feel 
sure their knowledge is correct, and that what they pre- 
dict is unavoidable. It is fair to enquire if there could 
be, in the wildest anarchy anything very much worse. 

But let us open our eyes a little wider yet. By what 
to most people seemed an unfortunate coincidence, the 
free-love element took a share in the presidential elec- 
tion of 1884, along with free-liquor, and free-trade in 
general. This, however, was no coincidence. That 
element belonged in the company it took ; it must show 
itself there sooner or later ; for its character is, like that 
of the others, a selfish regard for the interests of the 
strong, and indifference to those of the weak. I do not 
mean to intimate that the candidate of one party was 
more reprehensible than thousands of those who op- 
posed him — the difference in parties is not any too great 



* " Take, for instance, Prof. Sumner of Yale College. Can he be anything else than 
an agnostic? His lectures to the students — for some reason or other frequently 
reported in the newspapers — are directly at variance with the theories of theology 
and the whole spirit of Christianity, for he teaches flatly and with cruel emphasis 
that the scientific doctrine of the survival of the fittest should be applied to 
human society with all its logical consequences. The weakest must go to the wall, 
says Prof. Sumner, and the strongest must succeed among men as among 
beasts. The sentimental view of social questions he laughs at asuuworthy of 
sensible and educated men, who, according to his notion, should watch without a 
quiver the progress of the struggle which is 'hurrying on the survival of the 
fittest.'" (iV. Y. iSun,— article on '"Atheism among College Students." 1886.) 



222 NATURAL AND 

— but never before in this country were similar tenden- 
cies strong enough to enable any party, by its toleration, 
excuse, justification or advocacy of its candidate, to 
make all three of these "freedoms" together, a test of 
the doctrme and policy to be voted for and established 
by the American people. This is precisely what was 
done in effect at that time, though the endorsement was 
not a strong one. That the former slaveholder and his 
children would sustain the party was to be expected; 
while the votes that turned the scale came from the 
half-Americanized city of New York, and from the neigh- 
boring towns, largely inhabited by a similar population. 
That a large part of the voters could not see what the 
real issue was only again shows how easily the ignorant 
and thoughtless masses of men and women can be mis- 
led through their prejudices, and induced to aid in their 
own degradation. 

The result, therefore, of that election indicated more 
plainly than anything before it, that, unless the prevail- 
ing tendency shall be strongly checked, this country is to 
be Europeanized ; that the industrial masses are to be 
crowded steadily downward till they are no better than 
serfs ; that tyranny, servility, and moral corruption are 
to become the general condition ; till the excesses of 
such a state finally provoke a reaction of general tumult, 
riot and revolution. 

Since then another presidential election has, by a 
slight reaction, put the opposite party in power ; but the 
change in the popular vote is so small that it indicates 
little real change in popular sentiment. And though the 
Protective policy voted for may continue to be main- 
tained, its effect, especially as partly counteracted by 
immigration, can be only a slight retardation of the com- 
petitive movement ; the outcome, a few years or decades 
later, will be substantially the same. 

Of course it will be said that this is the view of a pes- 



SOCIAL SELECTION 223 

simist, seeing only the black and horrible side of things. 
No, I see whatever bright side there is ; but the black 
side of competitive industry, the fiendishness hidden in 
its purely selfish doctrine and policy, has never been 
fully exhibited to the w^orld. It is a system that compels 
men to develop not only every legitimate talent and en- 
ergy, but every illegitimate and reprehensible one also. 
Every trick, fraud, swindle, and gambling operation that 
can bring money ; every device to rob inexperienced 
women and young persons compelled to venture into the 
business world ; every grab-game by which something 
can be stolen from the common resources of the people 
(for this is only a competition to see who can get it 
first); every knavish, lying and mean deception to get 
custom away from another, or a profitable situation 
under an employer ; every prostitution of talent to vile 
uses for gain ; is the direct product and outcome of the 
competitive system. The struggle for existence under 
it at length becomes so intense and fearful that every 
possible kind of service is sold for money ; every favor, 
almost, must be returned in some way that will be of 
money value. By the inequality of wealth generated, 
wealth becomes a means of distinction, a badge of supe- 
riority, and a title to respect. To secure these, officials 
betray their trusts, for something that in some direct or 
indirect manner brings money. Professional service of 
every kind is tainted more or less with this moral pros- 
titution. Humble service, likewise, must have its little 
"tips," or it is not fairly given. The mechanic, for no 
bribe but his wages, assists in whatever cheat his em- 
ployer may design. The essential character of the sys- 
tem, therefore, does not consist in doing better service 
for the same money, or the same service for less, as is 
commonly supposed, but in taking whatever method 
will bring it the easiest, quickest, surest, or the most of 
it. To some persons the easiest method is a fraudulent 



224 NATURAL AND 

one. Others will take an honest and straight-forward 
course, by natural preference, as long as it remains 
practicable. Some will be honest for the same reason 
that others will be dishonest, namely, because they think 
that will be the best way to obtain the money. It may 
be assei^ted in reply that such is not the design of theo- 
retical free competition, — that its friends do not justify 
dishonesty, — which may be true enough; but the fact is 
that free competition is not fair competition ; that fraud 
succeeds in gaining wealth, and the wealth dishonestly 
gained brings distinction, respectability, position and in- 
fluence. Or, if in some cases there is a protest against 
allowing all these to dishonest wealth, it can at least 
command the means of luxury. There is thus held out 
a continual temptation to fraud and legal villainy. As 
long as this is true (and no one can say when, in civil- 
ized societies, it was ever otherwise) the system must be 
judged by such results as here charged. 

It is not denied that there are faithful officials, honest 
business men, conscientious professional- men and me- 
chanics. But their morality is mostly the product of 
outside influences ; while the tendency of competition is 
to make their number less and less. A certain degree of 
mercantile honor, or faithfulness to contracts and trusts, 
has always been considered a necessity in doing busi- 
ness ; but it may be questioned if even this is not being- 
assailed and weakened, and likely to be destroyed by 
the prevailing tendency. 

Take notice of a few more facts, to show where the 
drift of things is carrying us in these days of supposed 
enlightenment, liberty, and progress. The Malthusian 
doctrine that the poor man has no moral right to have a 
child, and if without employment is commanded by 
Nature to take himself out of the world, was set forth by 
a minister of the gospel of the meek and lowly Jesus, 
who had not where to lay his head, — and was advocated 



SOCIAL SELECTION 225 

with a good motive only. The hopeless prospect of the 
future for the workingman has been believed by such 
men as John Stuart Mill, Herbert Spencer, and Professor 
Cairnes, three of the most tender-hearted men in Eng- 
land. Why have they been so ready to accept such 
utterly heartless and cruel ideas.? Because the reverence 
for property, taught them by the Competition doctrine, 
makes the robber gains of the millionaire appear to them 
more sacred than human happiness — yes, even more 
sacred than human life. 

In London, the center of the modern industrial and 
commercial world, and of Free Competition propagan- 
dism, where dwell the richest of the rich and the most 
degraded poor on the face of the globe, where everything 
holy and unholy is converted into money, — there is 
where little girls, from ten to thirteen years old, are sold 
by their parents into a life of shame and ruin, to gratify 
the peculiarly dainty sensuality of certain rich villains, 
soiTie of them believed to be lords, princes, lawmakers, 
and judges.* It is entirely right and proper, a very 
romance of consistency, that London should be the spot 
where vice of this kind is carried to the last extreme ; 
because it is the center and home of the teaching and 
practice that would naturally end in the vilest of all com- 
mercial transactions. Other great cities may be nearly 
as bad, but according to all reason, propriety and justice 
London o-i.i.ght to be the "worst. 

Let us look also at a point on our own continent. In 
the state of California, having a gold-producing region 
and a virgin soil, where nature could be robbed of its 
resources with the greatest ease, an unrestrained grab- 



* See the Pall Mall Gazette articles on " The Maiden Tribute of the Modern Baby- 
lon," July 1886. It is a remarkable fact, though in keeping with all the rest, that 
the editor who exposed this diabolism was seat to prison three mouths for a 
merely technical offence committed during his investigations, while the real 
criminals, whose money tempted the half -starved poor, escaped all prosecution. 

Since then a human fiend in the Whitechapel district has been allowed to commit 
free murder, and the most horrible mutilation, on a half-score of female victims, 
without as yet (Dec. '83) being captured by the police. 



226 NATURAL AND SOCIAL SELECTION 

game has been going on for thirty-five years, with gold, 
metalhc or representative, for the principal currency, and 
Chinese labor, cheaper than the white man was able to 
furnish it. In all these respects the situation has been 
favorable to what is called ' ' free competition ; " and the 
outcome of its operation is, — great wealth, numerous 
millionaires, land held in immense ranches, hard times 
for poor white men, and a mass of social rottenness in 
the chief city, where twelve-year-old boys catch vile 
diseases from degraded Chinese women, openly im- 
ported for purposes of prostitution.* The result is but 
little different from what it is in London ; in both loca- 
lities man, woman, the whole human being, happi- 
ness, hope, conscience, decency, is inhumanly sacri- 
ficed to the almighty god of money. 

Other localities are as yet behind these centers of 
operation, but are approximating the same condition, 
and need only sufficient time to reach it. Well and 
appropriately has it been said, — "The worst of all bar- 
barisms is the barbarism of the civilizee." 



*See report of a Congressional committee appointed some ten or twelve years 
since to investigate the condition of the Chinese in California. 

Also the following requoted from the N. T. S"n of Oct. 18, 1887. 

"The San Francisco Examiner says that the steamship City of Sydney, which re- 
cently arrived in that port brought $60,000 worth of Chinese girls to replenish the 
slave quarters of that city. Though such importation is against the Chinese Re- 
striction act, against the 'Contract Labor act, and against the still older law pro- 
hibiting the immigration of women brought for immoral purposes, their owners 
will find no serious difficulty in landing these costly chattels. A few dollars for 
witnesses, something more for a lawyer, and $17.50 apiece for court fees will set- 
tle the matter." 

StiU further, the following from the X. Y. Press of July 25, '88. 

" San Francisco, July 24.— The Grand Jury, after a session of seven weeks, has 
made its report It declared that in the city crime is organized for offense and 
defense ; that elections are controlled by l,200'or 1,500 criminals, leagued together 
and rendering ' quid pro quo ; ' that the leaders have a pull on men in authority ; 
that matters have reached such a pass that to offend the criminal element means 
political ostracism, and that a reciprocity exists between criminals, gamblers, 
prostitutes, bosses and policemen. 

"A great deal of attention was given to the Chinese quarter. The report speaks 
of the place with horror and loathing, and says it is a haunt where crime flour- 
ishes, despite the police." 



CHAPTER X. 

NATURAL AND SOCIAL SELECTION. 

Co7iiinued, 



THE last chapter exhibited some of the worst features 
and results of the industrial system called Free 
Competition, under which the commercial world has 
always lived, which ends \n freedom only for the strong, 
and in competition that is seldom fair. Let us now look 
at society from an opposite direction to discover what 
there may be to relieve the fearful prospect given from 
the first point of view. 

When individual men first begin to form society, in 
order to accomplish by cooperation what they could not 
as individuals, that society comes to have a purpose of 
its own, which the individual separately had not. With 
society as with the separate individual the object is 
human happiness. With the individual it was his own 
personal benefit, regardless of his fellows ; with society 
it is the happiness of the whole, or at least of the greatest 
number. To society then, that man or that institution, 
that law, custom, habit or industry that can add most to 
the social happiness — the good of the whole — is the one 
best fitted, or most fit to survive. 

Then it is that justice becomes a standard by which 



228 NATURAL AND 

to judge of what is fit. It is not that which is best for 
one or for a few, but that which is best for all equally, that 
is now demanded. It is the justice of equality which 
makes every one contented with his situation, and at- 
taches him in unity with all, thereby rendering the social 
body powerful for its purposes. Inequality, on the con- 
trary, weakens the social organism by provoking discon- 
tent and disunion. Why should one suffer and die while 
another enjoys and lives.? Why one be born with disease 
and deformity, another healthy and beautiful.? Why one 
dwell in a shanty, another in a palace.? Why one grow 
up ignorant, and another be well educated.? Why one do 
disgraceful work for small return, while another has a 
sniecure place, good salary, and honor besides.? Why 
one go with shabby dress, horny hands, and body be- 
grimed with dirt, till he can have no pleasure in touching 
anything, or comfort in seeing himself at all, while an- 
other is clean, comfortable, and able to contemplate 
himself with satisfaction .? Why one forever unfortunate 
and miserable, while another is comparatively fortunate 
and happy.? These are the questions the poor and 
miserable have always asked, which the worker and the 
socialist are continually asking ; but no one has ever 
given them an answer. No, and of all the wonderfully 
wise men, philosophical and clerical, who teach the un- 
fortunate to accept their present evils, to reconcile them- 
selves to hard work and small wages, to live on bread 
and water and be content with nothing but their ''fod- 
der" for comfort, till some thousands of years of blind 
natural selection has made an improvement, not one of 
them, can give any answer. It is almost a pity the mod- 
ern sphynx could not bite off their heads ; for of all 
enemies of the suffering poor these teachers of falsehood, 
v/ho justify perpetual wrong in the name of science and 
culture, are the very worst. 

This prime distinction, between the purpose of the 



SOCIAL SELECTION 229 

natural, selfish individual man and the purpose of 
society, has been recognized more or less clearly from 
the earliest times. Old Hesiod, one of the first Greek 
poets, is credited with saying, "Let fishes and wild birds 
and beasts devour each other, but our law is justice;" 
that is, equality — the right of every one to live, and not 
be devoured by the rich and strong. Justice, Equality. 
Morality, Unselfishness — this has been the burden of all 
religious teaching, the pretense of all law, the inspi- 
ration of all the best poetry and romance, from the dawn 
of civilization to the present day. During all that time 
a contest has been kept up between the unsocial individ- 
ual and his fellows. Society has ever insisted upon 
bringing him into harmony with them — into a condition 
where he would do them no wrong. It has always been . 
inculcating the morality of justice, of liberty, of frater- 
nity ; the equal value of every human soul ; the duty of 
elevating the degraded, and of aiding in every way those 
who need help. The state through law, and the church 
through religion, have continually made efforts, feeble 
and unwise perhaps , and often counteracted by their own 
immorality — yet still efforts, to attract or force him into his 
true relations. In short, the principal object of civili- 
zation during all the past' has been to accomplish the feat 
of bringing this wild, selfish, unsocial man from the con- 
dition of savage individualism into adjustment with his 
fellows in a state of society. That social influence is 
the "power that makes for righteousness," and this con- 
flict is, in large part, what the eternal warfare of good and 
evil means. 

In the effort to do this, society, as does the individual 
man with his plants and animals, interferes with the pro- 
cess of Nature, and, in a very imperfect manner as yet, 
selects for itself that which is best for the social good — 
that which favors justice or equality, or is for the interest 
of the greatest number. It attempts to select out its 



230 NATURAL AND 

worst criminals, and in certain cases of necessity the 
weakly born and least useful have been so treated in 
earlier times. Regarding institutions, customs, indus- 
tries, trade, it is the same. Through the government it 
brings its power to bear upon slavery, monopoly, polyg- 
amy, the saloon, the brothel, the gambling house, the 
school, the church, the museum, the library, the alms- 
house ; selecting one to be destroyed, and another to be 
preserved. It has often done this in a blind and selfish 
way ; for society, like the average individual, has always 
been more or less blind and selfish, the teacher but little 
better than the taught. It will continue this process with 
increasing skill and effectiveness, till it has attained in- 
stitutions fitted to develop social or moralized men and 
• women, at the same time selecting out with more thor- 
oughness all those persons who cannot be so fitted for 
society. 

All political, ecclesiastical, marital, judicial, and charit- 
able institutions, with their changes and modifications, 
are interferences with natural selection, which society 
has already made. So is the legal regulation of inheri- 
tance, of property or office. And the execution of crimi- 
nals is its vindictive and cruel method of selecting out a 
few of those least fitted for social life. 

In a similar manner society must hereafter come to 
deal with the element of fortune. The present selfish 
doctrine is that no one shall be happy except those who 
have good fortune ; all who have bad luck must suffer 
without help, other than what a few benevolent persons 
may extend as a slight mitigation. And if the state at 
present gives to its paupers the bare means of dragging 
out a miserable existence, or builds a hospital for the 
blind or insane, the maimed or orphaned, it is done from 
a feeling of benevolence, or as a duty owing to religion, 
not from any consideration of justice to those unfortu- 



SOCIAL SELECTION 23I 

nates. It would scout the idea that they had the right to 
claim anything on the ground of justice. But this very 
claim I make bold to present on their behalf. The nat- 
ural and moral right of all to an equally good fortune, on 
the ground of a natural capacity to enjoy, is what deter- 
mines the duty of one to help another in time of need or 
distress. There is no other rational ground for such 
charity as most people acknowledge it their duty to be- 
stow on the unfortunate. It is on the same ground only 
that the weak are entitled to protection, or that the child 
may claim an education. And by precisely the same 
reasoning the child is entitled to an education as nearly 
equal to that of any others as its capacity will enable it 
to receive. The inferior in capacity have still a right to 
the means of culture and moral improvement so far as- 
their abilities allow ; while the indolent and careless are 
no less entitled to that education or discipline that will 
teach them at least not to be a burden, if they cannot be 
really useful to their fellows. Further, to deny that soci- 
ety is justly under obligation to remove or prevent some 
of those inequalities of fortune that exist so numerously 
in the financial world, is no less unreasonable than to 
deny any of the other claims here set forth. It is the 
equal capacity to enjoy, or to learn to enjoy, that gives 
the right in any case, and it matters not what the kind of 
misfortune is. Justice, equality, and the social good are 
all one thing ; and by favoring equality in opposition to 
fortune society can probably benefit itself quite as effec- 
tively as in any other way. 

Among ourselves every one now believes the best 
man ought to succeed ; but now, observe, it is not the 
one who is best for himself, but the one who is best for 
society and for social ends. Nature may give wealth to 
the miser, who hoards it, or when he dies leaves his 
millions to those who have no need of them : but it is 



232 NATURAL AND 

not such a one we say deserves wealth most ; it is one 
who will use it well for himself and others. The un- 
principled politician may, in the existing state of things, 
be most sure of obtaining office ; but the one we say 
ought to succeed is he who will be most conscientious 
and faithful. To repeat, it is the one best fitted for good 
society, — the one who can promote the social happiness. 
We now live in a social environment, and the individual 
best adapted to that is the one we wish to be successful,, 
the one society, so far as it does anything, seeks to pre- 
serve and to favor. As society becomes wiser its work 
will be done more efficiently ; till at last the criminal 
and parasite classes will be entirely suppressed ; every 
one will be educated into fitness for social life ; and 
Equality or Justice become the acknowledged law. Un- 
der such a law Natural Selection will act on the in- 
dividual only to brings him, through honest and fair 
competition, into the place where he can be most useful. 

Here, then, we have the parties to the long fought 
battles ; one possessing a set of ideas favorable to the 
selfish individual, the other a set adapted to unselfish so- 
ciety. Take notice that it is not any existing society to 
which these latter ideas belong, so much as they do to a 
better one. And looking over the field, what is now the 
situation of the opponents, and how is the conflict likely 
to end.? 

The party of Individualism, the advocates of that selec- 
tion by which Nature gives everything to the strongest — 
the one best able to take by force, fraud, or cunning — of 
that pohcy which in spite of all philosophy and religion, 
spite of all just and humane sentiment, has always pre- 
vailed in the past, and caused the ruin of all the old civil- 
izations ; that party, with its doctrine and policy, is still 
predominent in the state, the church and the school ; its 



SOCIAL SELECTION 233 

leaders include our great politicians and statesmen, our 
great preachers, our college professors, even our greatest 
philosopher. They tell us the present ideas and prac- 
tices are to prevail forever ; only that brute force and open 
fraud are no longer to w^in ; these are to be discarded in 
the warfares and competitions of society ; but concealed 
fraud, cunning, deception, demagoguery, adulation, ser- 
vility, favoritism, inherited vi^ealth or position, — these, it 
is not denied, are writhin certain respectable limits, to be 
allowed their usual operation, and along with industry, 
frugality, and a certain amount of honesty, are to be the 
means of success. 

On the other hand, the Christian church with some 
degree of fidelity to the Founder's teachings, for several 
centuries protested against the taking of usury, as well 
as against other forms of wrong-doing ; * but never I 
think has made any serious objection against monopoly, 
-speculation, or profit-making in excess of payment for 
service. A few socialists only have ventured to oppose 
such things; while these too, in attempting to form soci- 
eties on a new basis, have given an extra share of the 
common product to talent, skill and capital, as does the 
established order, and none of their efforts have been 
successful. New religious sects have gone back to take 
on the doctrine and sentiment of the primitive Chris- 
tianity, and under the old inspiration have tried to real- 
ize something of its communistic feature in small associa- 
tions. They also, like drops of milk in an ocean of wa- 
ter, become absorbed in the surrounding mass, and the 
latest of them have nearly disappeared, or are virtually as 
dead as those of earlier times. Socialism, in its most rad- 



* Since this was written I learn that an important difference between ancient 
and modern usnry was pointed ont by Ferdinand Lasalle. In the ancient, and 
the later Roman times, money was loaned chiefly to relieve some necessity of the 
"borrower ; and interest was an extortion, by taking advantage of such necessity. 
In modern times money is borrowed mostly as capital, to be used in making more 
money, and interest on it becomes virtually the capitalists share in the profits of the 
industry his loaned capital has helped to carry on. The change of public opinion 
regarding it is largely owing to this change of use. 



234 NATURAL AND 

ical nnd desperate form of Nihilism or Anarchism, * is 
rapidly increasing its strength in Europe, where the ex- 
tremes of social condition are most pronounced. That 
opposite form of it called Social Democracy or State So- 
cialism is likewise gaining influence ; while through the 
press the doctrines of both sects are being distributed 
over all civilized society, or more correctly perhaps, un- 
der its surface. Their ideas are creeping into much of the 
literature of the time, including popular novels, and even 
into orthodox pulpits of the church. It begins to appear 
as if the next social movement might be one of the whole 
body politic, not the isolated effort of a sect. 

In this connection a word may be said to those people 
who seem to think the present society justified by 
science because Natural Selection reigns in it. Natural 
Selection reigns in it, where not interfered with by Social 
Selection, just as in the animal and vegetable kingdoms, 
subject to whatever fortune may be the result of acting 
causes. But the powerful animals, the lions, elephants 
and whales; and the big trees, have become exempt from 
the operation of the law. Occasionally there may be 
some competition between them, but comparatively at 
least, they have passed beyond all danger. So the rich, 
the established, and the fortunate, in the human domain 
have escaped the influence of Selection, and taking ad- 
vantage of their good fortune, have used it to secure 
themselves and their children still further from any dan- 
ger of rivalry. The law can operate only so far as all 
are subject to the same competition under the same con- 
ditions, which again is a state of equality. Neither does 
Evolution justify or excuse one portion of society more 
than another. The Nihilist believes in Evolution as much 
as does an English economist, and the Evolution process 
has produced both the anarchist and the millionaire,, as 

*The school of Anarchists, here classed as Socialists, are really Socialists in 
purpose, but Individualists in method; having au inconsistent mixture of ideas, 
and apparently capable cnly of making discord and confusion. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 235 

well as all the other antagonistic social elements. In- 
deed the action of every man himself is a part of the 
social evolutionary process ; and hence the question 
properly comes home to every individual capable of 
understanding it, — Shall the rude and cruel haphazard 
selection of nature, through unlimited selfish competi- 
tion, be continued indefinitely ; or shall society interfere 
more efficiently than ever before, and make a more 
perfect selection of its members and institutions for 
itself? 

The weak points in the position of those wise teachers 
who tell us, with such an air of infallibility, that there is 
no help for generation after generation of the unfortunate 
yet to go down in their misery, are several. 

First, is the assumption that they know all about soci- 
ety and social science ; which, notwithstanding their 
much study on the one line of Economics, seems very 
like a grand pretension. 

Next, they continually talk to us as if there were 
no good or ill fortune — as if every one had a fair chance 
to show his fitness for success — as if there were some 
real equality to start with. Everybody else knows 
this is not correct. The son of the poor man does not 
have an equal chance with the rich man's son, though 
in every moral or social quality he may be equal or 
superior. The child born to a higher social position, or 
a better education, has opportunities and aid that the 
less fortunate one does not. In the present industrial 
world there are conditions into which one may be born, 
and only the most superior native intelligence, energy, 
and perseverance will enable him to escape. Such con- 
ditions exist all over Europe, they exist in our backwoods 
country districts, and in the poorest localities of our large 
cities. 

And one of the most egregious of all the false assump- 



236 NATURAL AND 

tions made by our wise economists is, that because most 
of the children born in these unfortunate locahties are 
inferior to the average, all of them must be. Every one 
who has any knowledge of human nature can see that 
among these children are a large number who have 
qualities equal to the average, and that some of them 
are as bright, healthy and beautiful as any among the 
best. By natural justice these are entitled to a good 
education, and opportunity for a fair start in life's race. 
For want of it they remain as they grow up, ignorant, 
poor, helpless and degraded. 

Again, the assumption is constantly made that trade 
is honest and just — not a state of modified war, robbery 
and grab-game selfishness at all ; that competition in it 
is open, fair and equal for everybody. But while there 
is much trade that is fair and honest,' any one who cares 
to observe will quickly discover that its inherent spirit 
and character is the opposite ; and the more severe the 
competition, the more that spirit is manifest. 

Still further, the assumption is that there is no aristo- 
cratic spirit for one to contend against who attempts to 
rise from the lower ranks. This, though a matter of less 
importance, is yet a reality that ought not to be entirely 
ignored. 

Yet again, there is an indifference to general, or more 
correctly perhaps, to universal education, which does not 
indicate a keen sense of justice toward the child. This 
is more especially true of Mr. Spencer. If the child's 
parents do not educate it no one need care to, is about 
the impression I have taken from reading his books. I 
hope it is not correct, for I am the ' last one that would, 
suspect Mr. Spencer of any conscious injustice or in- 
difference to human welfare. As his brain has been 
continually filled with economic doctrines born of the 
selfish trade spirit, and true to their origin, it is scarcely 



SOCIAL SELECTION 237 

surprising that these produce some bad effect on his 
character, in spite of the noblest intentions. 

The assumption in this case is that the child will get an 
education somehow if it needs, or has an attraction for 
it, and be able to compete on an equality with his fellows. 

Now, every old farmer knows that a spring snow^ 
storm which would select out one feeble old sheep from 
his flock, is likely to kill off a dozen of healthy, promis- 
ing young lambs ; and he is wise enough to save the 
lambs. But the child or uneducated man is no better 
able to bear exposure to the selfishness of his fellows in 
the present society. Temptations that have no effect on 
the educated and well-informed will destroy thousands 
of the ignorant, childlike minds that have had no intel- 
lectual growth or equipment. They become morally 
corrupt, and society must suffer for the neglect of the 
child. I do not wish to be understood that such educa- 
tion as the state usually furnishes to the child would 
always, or even generally, save it; but such education 
as Mr. Spencer himself recommends to intelligent par- 
ents would go far in this direction. There is no more 
equal chance, however, for the uneducated to become 
moral than to become rich ; and the society that neglects 
them does not do justice to all its people. 

Yet once more, there is an assumption most of these 
teachers make which is as false as hell. It is that the 
man who desires to work can always find employment. 
In reality he may be compelled to lie idle half his time, 
and all he earns be barely enough to keep him alive, 
without decent clothing or shelter. He may have no 
means of acquiring information, no chance for accumu- 
lating capital to compete with others in business. There 
is no equal start in life's race to the workingman, and 
the society that does not secure it to him is not just. 

In regard to all these matters and many others besides, 



238 NATURAL AND 

society, aiming at justice, will see that it has yet much 
to do. It is manifest there can be no complete and final 
end of the conflict till we reach the stage of the Unselfish 
Development. But a great deal can be done to hasten 
the approach of that condition. What we need first is a 
general conviction of the social sinfulness ; and follow- 
ing on that a moral regeneration more deep, thorough, 
and universal than any that has ever reacted against 
irreligion, slavery, or political despotism, — one that will 
fire men's hearts with a love of justice no self-love can 
suppress, no money buy, no friendship turn aside, no 
flattery cajole, no terror scare, from doing its righteous 
work. With this there will be combined efforts that 
shall render it effective. 

The measures taken, whatever they may be, must be 
such as will put the whole power of society on the side 
of Equality against Inequality, — against all those con- 
ditions, laws, customs and practices that are unequal, 
and in favor of whatever tends, in any just manner or 
degree, toward equality of condition. Society must not 
only select its fit members, and adapt them by education; 
it must also do something toward making the environ- 
ment equally favorable to all. It must attempt the 
elimination of chance or fortune, so that Natural Selec- 
tion may have its fair and proper operation. Monopoly 
of every kind must become a crime, as it really is — 
a gigantic crime, the greatest of all causes of social 
misery. Monopoly in ordinary trade must have no more 
toleration than any other ; for it is the most common 
and far-reaching of all. Inherited wealth must not give 
one person an advantage over another equally worthy. 
And herein is the necessity for a more thorough educa- 
tion of that kind which will confer upon the individual a 
knowledge of the world he lives in, including the human 
part of it, in place of ancient and middle-age notions, 
theological or classical. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 239 

The criminal and pauper classes are to be educated 
and reformed so far as this is possible ; those with whom 
it is not possible should be utterly suppressed by con- 
finement for life, and exclusion from all opportunity of 
perpetuating their breed. When society becomes just 
to them there will be few found incapable of improve- 
ment. The same exclusion method of eliminating- idiots, 
lunatics, and the monstrosities of inherited disease will 
be resorted to when sufficient intelligence has become 
spread among the people, through the propagation of 
scientific knowledge. And the means to accomplish a 
part of this work of education and reformation may, 
even under existing conditions, be found by withdrawing 
from the monster fortunes of millionaires, through gradu- 
ated taxation, a small part of that wealth which was 
once the common inheritance, and has come into the 
hands of its possessors through good luck, favoritism, 
or dereliction of duty on the part of those who should 
have been its faithful guardians.* The millionaire 
himself, like the criminal and the pauper, is to become 
extinct. 

But let us bring the conflict of ideas down to its latest 
phase ; and by observing its most advanced points we 
can perhaps see better what its further stages are likely 
to be, and how it will terminate finally. 

While the doctrines favoring the selfish spirit of indi- 
vidualism have attained their most complete development 
in England, those ideas and measures (outside of Social- 
ism) which contemplate the restriction of competitive 
selfishness for the benefit of the social mass have found 
their strongest presentation, and greatest influence, in 

* Some years ago I published a pamphlet advocating graduated taxation oti all 
property, as a remedy for most of our industrial evils, by its being made severe 
enough to prevent great accumulations. It was afterward abandoned as being 
impossible to enforce, except to a moderate extent as above intimated. Even if 
practicable it would be but partially just, a half-way measure, like several others, 
and prompted by a needless fear that Social Democracy involved too much inter- 
ference with personal liberty. 



240 NATURAL AND 

America.* Common Schools for universal Education^ 
Protection to Home Industry, Homestead Exemption 
from process for Debt, Free Public Lands to Actual Set- 
tlers, National Paper Currency, Anti-Monopoly laws reg- 
ulating- Transportation — these are some of the most prom- 
inent of the latter class. "|* Whatever faultiness there may 
be about any or all of them, they are indications of the 
effort society is making to check the onward rush of un- 
regarding selfishness, now threatening to overcome all 
opposition. They are all interferences with natural se- 
lection and laissez faire. All of them, however inconsis- 
tent in some respects, aim at making man superior to 
money, and his welfare of more importance than the in- 
terests of capital. They are the external ebullitions of 
that force within society which is constantly asserting the 
superiority of the mass to the individual ; constantly 
struggling for the benefit ot the many rather than the few ; 
which has developed one part of the race into some sort 
of democratic government ; and which, if not defeated, 
will ultimately realize the greater accomplishment of 
Democracy in Industry, — a condition in which all men 
and" women will do honest work ; in which all will have 
an equal voice in the management of the natural re- 



*0f all American writers on economic subjects Mr. Henry C. Carey seems ta 
have perceived most clearly the tendency of the " free competition " doctrine, and 
to have opposed it with most of the unselfish si)irit. Though not sufficiently 
advanced to acknowledge the universal title to laud, he commended its free 
division, and holding in small areas, as most favorable to the industrious poor. 
And whatever new developments have arisen in economic science since he wrote, 
the issue is still the same as he saw it — unrestricted freedom for the strong, for- 
tunate or unscrupulous individual or nation ; or on the other hand, use of the 
social power for protection of the commercially oppressed, and advancement of 
the general good. 

t It will be questioned how Protection is a socialistic measure, especially after all 
the befogging of the subject during late presidential campaigns. The real point is 
that dut.es laid simply for defensive protection, of a weaker industry against a 
stronger, cause a wider distribution of industrial establishments, of the profits of 
the industry, and also of the benefits of employment, than there would be without 
such protection. Monopolistic concerns grow up under it, but there are more of 
them and smaller ones, and less inequality of wealth in the community, than 
would exist with national competition entirely free. 

The system carried out by England a century ago was not protection in the 
proper sense, though often called so ; but a grasping and monopolistic aggressive 
policy, by which she built up her great industries at the expense of all Europe and 
the American colonies, when she had uo need of protection, or little if any, her own. 
industrial development being, as a whole, not inferior to that of other countries. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 241 

sources belonging in common to the race, including pro- 
duction to supply the wants of population ; and in which 
all will share in the product of their labor in proportion 
to what they contribute. Profit-Sharing, Cooperative 
Stores and Building Associations, and the scattered at- 
tempts at Cooperative Production, though themselves 
transitional and temporary efforts, are already the feeble 
signs of what is yet to come in full measure if the unselfish 
impulse shall be finally successful in the long battle of 
the ages.* 

Democracy itself, without such an ulterior result, will 
be a failure. Indeed, it is scarcely untrue to call it such 
at present. What we possess of it in the government of 
this country may have been of some service to the 
masses in a moral sense by giving suffrage to the hum- 
ble, and thus increasing their self-respect ; but within 
the nation it has made commercial enterprise so free, and 
given it such facilities to work out its natural results, 
that Monopoly, Industrial Feudalism, and Plutocracy in 
politics, have arrived nearly as soon, probably, as they 
could have done in any case. These are now its foes, 
shouting its name perhaps, but acting in opposition to 
all its spirit and purpose ; and it must crush them and 
go forward, till it becomes true Industrial Democracy 
as well as Political, or else wither into an abortive thing, 
its substance gone, and nothing but an empty shell 
remaining. Only as a transitional institution, a step 
by which to obtain the means of inaugurating a more 
perfect state of equality, can it be and remain a success. 
If it fails to do its further work, the doom of the old 
republics is likely to be repeated by the new. 

The prevailing system of thought is well represented 

* The first great American Socialistic measure was the establishment of common 
schools ; and besides those mentioned above as having some tendency of the same 
kind, and that immense interference with the rights of individual property by 
Avhich four millions of slaves were set free, it is frequently noted that the Post 
Officehas always been, in this country, a socialistic institution. The Post Office 
is really more than that, — it is communistic, making the rich and x^opulous com- 
munities pay for the accommodation of the poorer ones. 



242 NATURAL AND 

at this time by Herbert Spencer. His late writings, 
upon the misuse of governmental function by unwise 
legislation, show that he still retains the ideas of thirty 
years ago, and that no farther advance is to be expected 
of him. His exhibition of legislative failures proves 
plainly the lack of social science among legislators, and 
adds to the long history of blunders made by ignorant 
goodness ; but in reality proves nothing against social 
effort wisely guided by social science. In regard to this 
matter a new thinker, Lester F. Ward, on our own side of 
the Atlantic, has taken steps in advance of Mr. Spencer 
or any one of the same economic school. In a work 
upon -'Dynamic Sociology" he shows how society has 
been successively adding to the functions of govern- 
ment, as the social intellect and conscience have become 
developed, till it has acquired all those it now performs. 
He further points out a very important enlargement of 
the function of Education, which it must yet perform 
before any very great improvement in society can be 
effected. His thought is worthy the attention of all 
persons capable of taking interest in social science.* 

Mr. Spencer and Mr. Ward, among accepted thinkers, 
may be taken as the best present representatives of the 
two conflicting tendencies in society, — Mr. Spencer of 
the laissez /aire or let-alone policy, which would leave 
everything but the punishment of crime and the enforce- 
ment of contracts to the blind, selfish regime of Natural 
Selection ; Mr. Ward of that by which society is to estab- 
lish justice, encourage equality, eliminate the element of 
fortune, and favor human development, as the proper 
social work, under control of the qualified scientific in- 
tellect. Mr. Ward, however, is not yet consciously 
aware that the fostering of equality, and the elimination 
of fortune, are natural parts of the program he has 



*Mr. "Ward s book, and Mr. Spencer's "Man and Tlie State," just referred to, are 
"both published by D. Appleton & Co., N. Y. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 243 

adopted ; and so far as I know he has made no state- 
ment concerning those two points.* 

The same two tendencies appear not only in men of 
moderate views like Spencer and Ward, but likewise 
amons: the most radical of Socialist advocates. The two 
principal parties of these, both having a common motive 
of opposition to the present order, are yet dominated in 
their thinking by the same contrary impulsions ; one, the 
Anarchist, or Individualist party demanding the most ab- 
solute freedom of the individual from all restraint outside 
himself, as the only social salvation ; the other, the Social 
Democracy or Collectivist, advocating the extension of a 
common or public regulative superintendence to all in- 
dustrial operations, for the sake of justice to all. 

The different meanings given to the word Justice by 
different persons is a curious illustration of the spirit that 
exists underneath all the ideas and acts of the antagonis- 
tic parties. To one it means security in the right of com- 
plete liberty to do whatever he will, — to make the most 
of his talents, opportunities and good fortune, regardless 
of any other ; provided he does not infringe upon the 
equal right of any other to act in the same way. In 
short, it is justice to himself, — to himself certainly, and 
apparently to all others as well. He sees the logical 
perfection of the doctrine as it is put into words ; but the 
spirit animating him prevents his seeing that in society, 
where every one is connected in a thousand ways with 
every one else, the words represent no actuality ; that no 
such absolute liberty can be exercised without doing it 
at some one's loss, pain, or disadvantage, especially in 
gathering up fortunes ; and that it will be possible only 
in an ideally perfect social condition where every one 



*By thus distinguishing these two men I would do no injustice to Mr. Spencer, 
and am far from intending any disparagement of the great work he has already 
accomplished. 



244 NATURAL AND 

shall be unselfish enough to desire no more than an 
equal share of anything. 

To the other kind of man justice means equal freedom, 
equal education, equal opportunities, equal results, equal 
happiness for all. And this justice for others has a 
greater claim upon him than his own liberty regarding 
the little details of industrial life in society. One idea is 
the justice of him whose thought is dominated by a self- 
ish instinct, even though his better nature doubts, denies, 
or scorns the indictment ; the other conception is the 
justice of the unselfish character, capable, to some extent 
at least, of forgetting personality in a desire for the wel- 
fare of all. 

To go back from this partial digression, the Anarchist 
or Individualist would abolish government, and with it, 
as he believes, the monopoly in land, by withdrawing 
from it the support of law. He would carry his doctrine 
to its logical outcome, and leave competition absolutely 
unchecked. What else he would do is uncertain ; but if 
his method of destruction should destroy any of the 
forms of monopoly, his plan of negation gives no security 
that it would not grow up again, nor that most of our 
present miseries of unfair competition would not be either 
continued or again revived, under the same let-alone pol- 
icy that now allows them to exist. In short, the Individ- 
ualist, though he may desire to be a socialist, desires still 
more an unsocial kind of freedom. 

On the other hand, Social Democracy proposes to abol- 
ish the whole competitive system, by employing the 
functions of a democratic industrial supervision. It 
would establish democracy in industry, and by securing 
employment, as the only means of acquiring property, to 
all alike, it would secure a greater practical freedom to 
the workingman than he, or indeed any one but the rich, 
has ever possessed. By far the most promising of all 
schemes, it will doubtless have imperfections in its details 



SOCIAL SELECTION 245 

when they come to be wrought out, and if these infringe 
upon any innocent Hberty they will be modified ; for there 
will be no need of interference with any liberty except 
that of the criminal and that of the monopolist ; the com- 
munistic feature being only the common ownership of 
the natural resources, and the new governmental feature 
extending only to the regulation of industry. It may be 
taken for certain that when all the temporary plans and 
methods referred to have come to their failure, this, in all 
its substantial parts, will finally be adopted ; for the hu- 
man sense of justice will never be satisfied till some ap- 
proach toward equality in the benefits of industry shall 
be realized by the whole people. 

That all these other schemes are temporary and transi- 
tional is sufficiently evident from the fact that the advo- 
cates of none of them discover their true antagonist 
in unregulated competition itself; that they seem not 
aware that competition necessarily ends in monopolies 
and combinations ; and that hence none of them pro- 
poses to strike at that earliest, most universal, and most 
injurious of all monopolies, the monopoly of trade, nor 
at the competitive method, which is the tap root of the 
whole tree of industrial evil. Cooperation endeavors to 
fight ordinary competition by another form of competi- 
tion, while the existing wealth with all its power is in the 
hands of its opponents. Its schemes are for. the benefit 
of the few only who are engaged in them, who, like the 
rest, are hostile to all competitors, and cannot be other- 
wise till cooperation becomes universal, which would be 
the Industrial Democracy above outlined. Profit-shar- 
ing gives the workingman a small bonus to render him 
more faithful in his employer's competition against all 
the rest. Neither of these injures any form of monop- 
oly; and operatives and managers in both are ani- 
mated by the old selfish desire to get all they can for 
themselves, regardless of what their competitors lose by 



246 NATURAL AND 

their success. Mr. George's plan of taxation, aimed at 
land-monopoly, attempts to cut off one head of a four- 
headed monster, devouring the people, leaving three 
other heads, the mercantile, manufacturing, and trans- 
porting monopolies, to devour as fast as they may. 
Mr. Clark's scheme* to tax all the natural increase of 
wealth into the hands of the State for the benefit of the 
next generation, spends most of it in paying the govern- 
mental expenses of the existing population, and the rest 
in public improvements ; allowing the new generation 
to come on the field with no more opportunity to employ 
themselves on the land, in trade, or in mechanical work 
than they would have at the present time. None' of 
these plans would prohibit the accumulation of great 
fortunes ; none of them could prevent great wealth from 
conferring honor and distinction; none, therefore could 
extinguish the ambition to be rich; nor could any or all 
of them abolish more than a small part of the poverty, 
misery and crime that go with inequality. And thus the 
Individualist social physicians may, (with no desire to 
offend) be compared to quack doctors, practicing on the 
symptoms of a patient, unaware that he has a poison 
virus in his blood, accumulating corruption and breaking 
out in one disease after another, which they endeavor in 
various ways to cure or prevent, yet leave the original 
active cause of all of them to operate unchecked. 

The correct understanding of the two great tendencies 
in the political world is hindered by their complication 
with two great tendencies in the intellectual world, — 
one, the active and progressive impulse, the other the 
inert, stationary, or reactive inclination. The complica- 
tion is increased by the fact that each one of the four, 
according to a law by which opposite things overlap 



♦Explained in a small work called " Man's Birthright or The Higher Law of 
Property," published by G. P. Putnams Sous, New York. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 24/ 

or intermix, possesses, along with its own peculiar 
character, somewhat of the character of its opposite. 
Still further, either one of the two last named may be 
associated with either one of the two former, at different 
times. Hitherto all advance has been accomplished 
through the action and reaction, mainly antagonistic, 
of one phase of movement against its opponent. In 
the future, it is to be hoped that they will become main- 
ly harmonious and cooperative. The Individualist and 
CoUectivist movements, being each still mostly selfish 
in its personnel, when one becomes victorious it may 
ignore the general welfare for the sake of some freedom 
to the individual ; or the other may over-ride some just 
liberty of the individual, in its regard for its own object. 
Either one of them when long established in power may 
become inert, or stationary, and hostile to the progress 
demanded by justice. The progressive disposition then 
sides with the one that has the greater justice and en- 
lightenment in its purposes ; for though the progressive 
element has its share of both selfishness and weakness, 
its ultimate object, whether a conscious one or not, is 
both justice and enlightenment, and the moralization 
of itself as well as of its opponents. In matters of a 
political nature it is the true social sentiment par ex- 
cellence ; and though in a preponderant sense it is con- 
structive, and may primarily be disposed to stand by 
the existing organization of a state or a church, it is not 
so necessarily and in all cases. For, the political or 
religious body may itself come to be only the instru- 
ment of a selfish individual tyrant, or an equally selfish 
oligarchy or aristocracy ; and then the progressive feel- 
ing must sympathize with the oppressed majority, or 
with the individual deprived of a just liberty; because 
its own ideal is not a national or an ecclesiastical pol- 
ity of any special sort, but human solidarity, — in other 
words, that justice or morality which secures the rights. 



248 NATURAL AND 

welfare, harmony and unity of all, the individual included 
with the mass. What other social or political aim 
could possibly be progressive ? 

At the present time the abuses of liberty are becoming 
so enormous and so unprincipled that the progressive 
impulse will be on the side of Collectivism.* As an ex- 
ample of how a movement may change its original 
predominant character, it may be observed that Chris- 
tianity, at its beginning the most progressive of all move- 
ments of its time, has, in its two mam branches, long 
been the most obstructive and reactionary ; the Prot- 
estant sects alone manifesting any tendency to advance. 
The sympathy of the Romanist body with the conserva- 
tive political party in America is well known, f As 
Conservatism has but one principle, Inertia — to stand 
still or fall back — it is easy for its different forms to sym- 
pathize and act together. On the contrary, the pro- 
gressive sentiment breaks up into a multitude of sects 
and parties, often hostile between themselves, and spend- 
ing more of their power in strife with one another 



* Liberty to trade and accumulate has been carried so far that the practical free- 
dom to live, without beggary, is taken away from a large minority, if not a major- 
ity of the people. Every one who cannot say that, accident excepted, he is reason- 
ably sure of always obtaining a livelihood for himself and family, is one of those 
who have lost the freedom to live. 

t It is well exhibited in the results of the last election (1888) in the Democratic 
city of New York, as given in one of the daily papers. 

" The Roman Catholics have taken the city. 

Their hand was in the sale of the Coogau party to Hugh J. Grant, 

They already have every member of the Board of Tax Commissioners. 

They have for years had and still have the control of the Board of Aldermen. 

They have the Mayor, the Sheriff, the Comptroller, the Counsel to the Corpora- 
tion, the whole Board of Tax Assessors, the majority of the Police Justices and of 
the Civil Justices, the Recorder, the Commissioner of Public Works, the Superin- 
tendentof the Street Cleaning Department, the Clerk to the Board of Aldermen, the 
Superintendent of the Bureau of Elections, several of the Justices of the Supreme, 
Superior and Common Pleas Courts ; the control of the Board of Estimate and Ap- 
portionment, the majority in many of the ward boards of School Trustees, a large 
portion of the Board of Education, the control of the Department of Charities and 
Correction, the majority in the police force, the control of the Fire Department, of 
the Board of Street Openings, the whole of the Armory Board, the Register of 
Deeds, the Commissioner of Jui-ors, one-half of the Commissioners of Accounts, 
Supervisor of the City Record, the Collector of the Port, the Siib-Treasury, ma- 
jority of the Commissioners of the Sinking Fund, the majority of the delegation 
in Congress and in the State Senate and Assembly. 

The Church of Rome is nothing if not political. It is the dominant party in 
this city. The majority of voters in this city belong to that party. The head and 
leader of this party is Archbishop Corrigan. " Mad and Express, Nov. 7, '88. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 249 

than they use against their common antagonist. This 
too, it may be noted, is another of the ways in which 
Humanity defeats its best purposes, for want of that 
higher intelligence, and that truer social sentiment which 
would be capable of doing justice to all. 




*^(^)^* 



CHAPTER XI. 

NATURAL AND SOCIAL SELECTION. 

Continued, 



THAT some system resembling- that of the Social 
Democrat will take the place of the present order, 
notwithstanding the various efforts to patch and plaster 
up its weakest parts by a partial cooperation, and thus 
keep it in existence, is made sure by the self-evident 
character of the ideas on which the coming system will 
be based. These I will attempt to state systematic- 
ally though it will involve some repetition of previous 
statements. 

I. That the whole surface of the earth, with every thing- 
contained in land and water, is by natural and moral 
right the possession of its whole population equally, for 
sustenance and use, is a proposition that no one willing- 
to think honestly can long continue to doubt. Land is 
the only basis of all food-production vegetable or animal, 
the instrument which, however infertile, can be so treated 
and used that food can be produced from it. The 
capability of the soil to produce food, and the capability 
of the poorest soil to be so improved that it will produce, 
is what renders it equally indispensable to life with the 
air that is breathed, the sunlight which as the source of 
heat is a necessity to all vegetable and animal growth. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 25 I 

and the water by which the internal operations of all 
animal and vegetable organisms are carried on. Either 
of them taken away, all life is destroyed. No authority, 
of any kind, can rightfully take away or limit this 
natural right of the whole population to either one of 
these four indispensable means of living, or give to any 
individual a title to any portion of either one different 
from that universal title inherent by natural justice in 
every person alike. Water, the more direct, source of 
fish-food production — lakes, rivers and seas — is equally 
with land the common possession by the same natural 
right, which no power can justly alienate. Whatever 
mineral or organic substances, existing on or in the land 
or water, can be made useful to man — metals, stone, 
timber, coal, salt, petroleum, gas, clay, sand, fertilizers, 
gums, spices, medicines, wild fruits, fish and game (so 
far as man can rightfully take animal life) pearls, dia- 
monds, gems — are all parts of those natural resources 
given by God or Nature to the whole race to be its 
commou inheritance, that fortune, so to speak, with 
which it was endowed when the first man and woman 
came into existence. They, like the soil and the waters, 
are the perpetual property of the race. The use of land 
or water for highways of transportation, or of the latter 
for water-power force, is likewise a part of the same 
universal possession. 

2. Every succeeding generation has an equal right to 
all the natural resources of the earth. To suppose that 
one could have such a right and another not would be 
totally absurd. It follows that there can be no absolute 
right of inheritance other than this by which one gener- 
ation inherits the use of everything the last one pos- 
sessed. When those materials which constitute the 
natural resources of the race are converted by labor into 
things of use and beauty, it is only the use of those 
things to which any person by his labor can acquire a 



252 NATURAL AND 

right. The wood, stone or metal — the organic or in- 
organic material of which they are composed — belongs 
alike to each generation, and no moral title to it can be 
acquired in any way by an individual. The use of 
articles is all that can justly be bequeathed from one 
person to another. And whatever material is not so 
abundant that all who desire can have a portion cannot 
be- appropriated, even in its use during life, except by 
the common consent, obtained by paying a bonus for 
the common good if demanded. There can be no justi- 
fiable monopoly, even in use. No one can have any 
moral right or permission to waste anything. The fertil- 
ity of the soil naturally increases with time, and our 
successors can claim that land, at least, ought to be in 
as good condition as it was received by us. The reck- 
less waste that has been going on for ages, and is still, 
is utterly thoughtless and unprincipled. No one can 
righteously throw away a stick of wood or a bone — any 
vegetable or animal matter — where it will not fertilize 
the cultivable soil when it returns to dust; nor a* tin can 
or piece of old iron where the metal cannot be recovered 
at some time in the future if needed. Every ounce of 
it belongs to the future men and women as much as to 
us ; and only the use of it belongs to anybody. The 
material of every kind, that exists on the earth or in 
it, including all the natural resources above named, is 
the continual birthright of the generations forever. 

3. The human population of the earth, as much the pro- 
duction of nature as its animal or vegetable productions, 
is also, by its multitudinous wants and the employment 
they furnish, a source of existence to three-fourths, if not 
nine-tenths, of the people living in civilized society, — to 
all in short, except the few who could live by the barba- 
rian method of hunting and fishing, or in other words, 
without ever working for one another. Every person 
born and coming to maturity, in such society, has an 



SOCIAL SELECTION 253 

equal natural and moral right with all others then living, 
to a share in this universal employment by which so 
large a proportion of its members enable each other to 
live. Nobody has a right, nobody can give any one a 
right, to more than his or her equal share of this employ- 
ment, created and furnished by civilized society, or of 
the rewards of it, by a monopoly of agriculture, trade, 
manufacture, or transportation. All the profits of the 
merchant, manufacturer, or transporter, beyond a certain 
amount sufficient to pay him good wages for his service, 
represents so m.uch labor or employment blindly given 
to him (for want of knowing any better way to do) by 
those who exchange their labor or its products for what 
they obtain of him ; the continued opportunity of receiv- 
ing this constituting his monopoly. The monopolist of 
trade can no more acquire a moral title to his profits than 
the monopolist of land can to his. Each of them ac- 
quires his gains in the same way, that is by obtaining 
and holding opportunities of doing something for the com- 
mon service, which opportunities belong to every other 
man as truly and as much as they do to him. In one 
case they are opportunities to use the soil, in the other 
opportunities to distribute goods to consumers ; and in 
both cases the monopolists give back those opportunities 
to those who assist them for wages, but keep for them- 
selves a part of the natural reward belonging to those op- 
portunities. The same is true of the manufacturer and 
transporter.* 

4. As a corollary of all this, every adult man and 
woman is morally entitled to an opportunity to invest his 
or her labor in agricultural, mechanical, mercantile, or 
transporting service for the common good, in such man- 
ner, and on such conditions, as will be most satisfactory 
to all concerned, and to receive the full natural reward 



* Population, witli its wants, as a resource furnished by Nature, is a necessary 
foundation doctrine of CoUectivist Socialism. Socialism is like an animal crawling 
on one leg, instead of running on four, till it finds this out. 



254 NATURAL AND 

for such labor. This right is equivalent to the right to 
live at all, except by beggary, and can be nullified only 
by the most outrageous injustice. To rent the common 
land to the highest bidder, and use the proceeds for the 
public good, as Mr. Spencer once proposed, or for the 
same purpose to sell licences to manufacture, trade or 
transport, v^^ould not secure this right to all ; for a state 
of things may be supposed to exist, especially a transi- 
tion state from the present, in v^rhich only the wealthy 
could compete in bidding, and the poor would have no 
equal chance. There is no safety for all except in a guar- 
anteed right of employment according to fitness. 

5. As the general satisfaction must be secured, the 
reward for different kinds of labor must be so graded that 
all occupations will be voluntarily performed ; and this 
requires that those most disagreeable shall have the 
largest pay, other things equal, and those most pleasant 
the least. 

6. Woman being equally capable of enjoyment with 
man, and thereby equally entitled to all the means of 
enjoying life, is justly entitled to the same pay or re- 
ward for her appropriate work that man receives for 
his ; and to an equal independence in the control, man- 
agement and use of whatever property she may. be able 
to acquire. 

7. As every one can justly claim an equal share if he 
or she desires it, so no one can claim any more than an 
equal share, in that total amount of employment found 
necessary to satisfy the wants of society, whether it 
require ten hours labor a day or five. 

8. The right of every one to have the undisturbed 
possession, use and enjoyment of whatever he or she 
gains by honest labor under conditions equal to all, and 
to the enjoyment of every liberty that is not necessarily 
injurious or annoying to another, is no less sacred than 
the right to labor and to live. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 255 

9. The equal right of all to the common and universal 
opportunity to labor, to live, and to enjoy, and the ne- 
cessity imposed on all alike to obtain a subsistence only 
by labor, involves the right of all children equally to an 
education, such as will prepare them to fulfil the ordi- 
nary duties of life, enable them to select their proper 
occupations, and acquire the additional training neces- 
sary to fit them for special performance. This includes 
at least the ability to read, write, and speak the common 
language correctly, to keep accounts, to respect the 
ordinary requirements of good breeding, and in one sex 
to handle the commonly used tools of mechanical work 
and agriculture, in the other to do the elementary work 
in its own appropriate labors. Aside from all other 
considerations, it is the right of the child when grown 
to obtain an equal chance with those already in the 
field ; and it is the duty of society, whose vocation is to 
secure justice, to see that everyone has this necessary 
amount of education. 

10. As every man and woman is equally interested in 
the ^oodi management of the natural resources belonging 
to all, and as monopolies of the various kinds, great and 
small, cannot with justice be allowed to carry on in- 
dustrial operations after the present method, it follows 
that those operations can be properly carried on only by 
such leaders — superintendents, bosses, foremen, etc. — as 
a majority of the men and women who are to work un- 
der their direction may elect as the best qualified to su- 
pervise and direct. 

11. As all monopolies are totally indefensible ; as all 
large properties have arisen by some one's obtaining 
more than an honest share ; as the present method of 
holding real estate has no just ground; and as no one 
can have a moral right to manage a part of the universal 
estate in a manner contrary to the general well-being 
and consent; therefore society has a just right to retake 



256 NATURAL AND 

possessw?i of land, mines, factories, stores, railroads, 
etc., Avhenever a majority of the people may be con- 
vinced that such a measure is necessary or desirable, 
and on securing to the holders a certain limited amount 
of property, not easy to define, which each may be 
supposed to have honestly earned during life, or to 
have honestly inherited when it is not the product of 
monopoly.* 

12. The right to share in the /o/z'/z'c^z/ administration of 
the country through suffrage is one belonging to all, irre- 
spective of race, sex, nationality, wealth or culture; for 
the simple and sufficient reason that all are affected by it. 
Neither one of the things here named can rightfully be 
used to confer suffrage or to prevent its exercise, nor yet 
the length of time an adopted citizen has lived in the 
country ; and even the age required of minors might be 
lowered a few years. But the right to perform a7iy pub- 
lic function is limited by the ability to do it well ; and the 
principle underlying Civil Service Reform is a proper one 
for suffrage as well as for all offices. The industrial 
chiefs referred to (par. 10) may properly be elected by a 
vote of all who are to be under their direction, and who 
are supposed to know what one among themselves is best 
qualified to supervise each special work they are perform- 
ing. So may all officials of township, city, and county 
administration ; whose character and fitness as individ- 
uals is the only matter to be decided. But when the 
highest offices of the nation are to be filled, and its legis- 
lators chosen, \v\iQn political principles and important na- 
tional measures are to be accepted or rejected, then the 
state should require of the voter some knowledge of the 
governmental organization, some acquaintance with its 

* It is to be hoped that confiscatiou may never have to be enforced by physical 
power ; and there is some reason to believe that it never will. The greater prob- 
ability is that many holders of great i^roperties will give them up voluntarily 
from conscience : and that others, when they find a strong balance of the best 
sentiment against them, will, like the French nobles in the time of the Revolution, 
make a virtue of necessity, and give up their old claims with the rest. When all 
do so together it will not be so very hard a thing to do. 



SOCIAL SELECTION 257 

political history, and sufficient understanding of the prin- 
ciples and other issues involved in political contests, to be 
able to vote intelligently in regard to them. Nothing less 
than this demand is justice to its most intelligent and ca- 
pable class, whose votes, under a system allowing every 
one a vote on every subject and every office, are com- 
pletely nullified by the votes of the incompetent, and who 
consequently lose their natural interest in political affairs, 
leaving them to be managed by those less capable and 
less conscientious than the average voting population. 
Any one who has not sufficient desire for this higher suf- 
frage to go before a justice of the peace or some other ju- 
dicial authority, and qualify himself by exhibiting a 
sufficient intellectual and moral capabihty, at least three 
months before any national or state election, should never 
be allowed to exercise it ; while under such a test the im- 
migrant just arrived, the eighteen-year-old boy or girl, 
the individual of any race or either sex, who declares a 
sincere loyalty to the country and the government, may 
be made an elector. With the universal education above 
required and supposed, the poorest as well as the richest 
may obtain this vote, and those only are excluded from 
it who are so obviously unfit that they refuse to make the 
mental exertion necessary to an intelligent choice.* 

Some of these basic ideas may prove too radical to 
be fully adopted by any sect of socialists at the present 
time. But when the competitive system shall have de- 
veloped all its evils, and the struggle between that and 

* If auy one will take the trouble to observe the conversation of the mass of 
voters in this country at the present time, he will discover that one-half of them 
— more or less — do not know what political principle means, and are totally incapa' 
ble of deciding what one is right or wrong, or of comprehending the effects of a great 
national measure. To give these persons the kind of suffrage last referred to, 
while they remain in such mental condition, seems the very extreme of political 
foolishness. 

It will do no harm to add, though it should not be necessary, that, if there were 
sufficient opportunity for education in the Southern states, the application of the 
above principle to suffrage would solve the race question there, so far as it can be 
solved at all, by a method entirely just to both races. 

The whole control of both suffrage and education may have to be given to the na- 
tional government, even before any general socialistic movement has arisen. 



258 NATURAL AND 

this shall be well begun, whatever the conscious purpose 
of the contestants, the momentum of the victorious party- 
will be likely to carry it to a completely radical out- 
come before the contest is finally ended. No consistent 
scheme of socialism can stop short of guaranteeing to 
the people all the human rights enumerated in the twelve 
propositions above. They are all really indispensables, 
without which any less thorough system will not be sure 
of complete success or of lasting continuance. 

No one familiar with the truth of these ideas can doubt 
that such a contest in the intellectual world is coming 
on, nor any more can he doubt that the victory will be 
with the party they represent. 

• The elements that are to form this victorious party are 
yet in a very chaotic and discordant state. Socialistic 
parties are like half-awakened soldiers in the night, 
misled by false cries, and striking at each other in the 
dark, not knowing the signs by which to distinguish 
friend from foe. The leaders cry Land, Liberty, Co- 
operation, Anarchy, Communism, Taxation, and Com- 
bined Trades-Unionism. Labor often relies for guidance 
on men whose brains are saturated with English Econ- 
omy, the very doctrine that is used to justify all the 
wrongs of the w^orkingman, and keep him a helpless 
slave forever, the prey of unscrupulous competition. 
Social Democracy as yet scarcely appeals to any except 
that part of the laboring class organized into trade 
unions. It must necessarily begin by addressing itself 
to workingmen, as the greatest sufferers, and the most 
vitally interested in any hopeful change ; but in addition, 
it should make its appeal to the whole people, the capi- 
talist included, and show that all can find a greater 
happiness in social renovation. The socialist still has 
too little faith in human nature, and takes the capitalist 
to be an unchangeable enemy. The capitalist looks upon 
the socialist in the same light, neither one considering 



SOCIAL SELECTION 259 

that both (that is, the persons, whatever their estate) 
must yet be brothers, if there is ever to be any har- 
monious society. The socialist leaders have thus far 
come from the ranks of the intelligent class, if not the 
wealthy, as by natural process they should if society is 
to take selection wholly into its own hands when suf- 
ficiently wise. A considerable part of those who labor 
for wages have neither sufficient intelligence to guide, 
nor conscience to control them; and their only power 
is a power to blindly destroy. Such as these can never 
be reformers, even of their own .wrongs. And though 
the capitalist class will not be socialists, as a class, 
neither the clergy nor the professors, yet a considerable 
proportion of all three may become such when all per- 
sons alike shall be addressed in the right spirit, in 
behalf of a project designed to do justice to all* The 
final question is to be, not one of class interest, but one 
directed to the moral sense ; and each person will decide 

* At the dinner of tlie New York Free Soil Clnb last Tuesday evening, Coiirt- 
landt Palmer, a millionaire land* owner and rent taker, said that in England the 
Socialistic Party was making great strides, because of the impoverishment of the 
workers. He continued : 

" The same social conditions hold good in all other countries. The rich are get- 
ting richer and fewer, and the poor, poorer and more numerous. How are we to 
remedy this state of atfairs ? Through rent, interest and profit the few are gradu- 
ally concentrating all wealth in their own hands. We should nationalize all 
monopolies. As a landlord I can't sign the declaration of principles of this club. 
I am a monopolist, and getting nearly all my income from rents— do not earn the 
money I get. The reform must be made general and must include as well as land- 
lord monopolists like myself, railroad monopolists like Mr. Vanderbilt, and profit 
monopolists like Arnold, Constable & Co. When this is done I will cheerfully 
sign the declaration of principles." Workmen's Advocate June, 4, '87 

See also the following from the Christian Union as an indication of similar feel- 
ing among the clergy. 

•'Whatever force or justice there may be in the proposition to increase the taxes 
upon land and take it off of other things — and we are inclined to think there is a 
measure of force and justice in this proposition — we do not believe that any read- 
justment of taxation whatever will solve the relations between labor and capital. 
Nor do we for a moment suppose that they can be solved by mere individual 
benefactions, whether by charity doled out to the poor, however generously, or by 
increase in wages, however equitable, or even by participation of profits in indi- 
vidual concerns here and there. * * * The employers and the employed must be- 
come partners in a common enterprise. The term 'boss' must drop from the 
workshop as the term king has dropped from the State. The tools and imple- 
ments of industry must become property of the many, not of the few ; and the 
proceeds of industry must come to be equitably shared. This involves nothing 
less than a radical revolution; but we believe that it will be wrought peacefully, 
not by bloodshed. * * * When all capitalists are workingmeu and all workingmen 
are capitalists, there will no longer be a problem of relationship between capital- 
ist and laborer to be solved. And we have gone further in America toward this 
consummation in this nineteenth century, though it lies still in the future, than 
any other country has gone in this or any other epoch," 



26o NATURAL AND 

it by his or her willingness or unwillingness to be con- 
tent with a just share of the worlds wealth; a share 
which will be comparatively equal. When this question 
comes fairly home it will divide socialist parties and all 
labor organizations, as well as the church, the politicians, 
the farmers, and the whole community. 

How long a time will be required to bring this change 
no one can estimate very closely, but eyes willing to 
look can see that change of some kind is actually coming. 
There seems to be an opposition to the established order, 
made up from all kinds of socialistic reformers, and the 
various opponents of existing abuses, discordant but 
capable of better combination, which is arising and ac- 
cumulating power throughout Europe and America — a 
social thunder-cloud that may grow into immense pro- 
portions, and is likely to make occasion for a vast deal 
of trouble if it should at last burst over the civilized 
world. Twice already in modern times a similar storm 
in the social elements has occurred; once when the War 
of the Peasants convulsed all Germany, and again when 
revolution culminated in a Reign of Terror in France. 
Let us hope that when the third one comes a reign of 
terror will not come with it ; that the humanizing in- 
fluences of the last hundred years have moderated the 
furious spirit which on those occasions drenched the 
earth with blood. Yet the reckless resort to dynamite 
already manifested, and the equally reckless and in- 
human manner of Suppressing the disorders of striking 
mobs, is not at all assuring. 

That storm, should it come, will probably bring the 
life or death struggle of all modern civilization. It will 
be, in a preponderant or majority sense, one of the weak 
against the strong, of the poor against the rich, of the 
ignorant against the cultured, of the degraded and de- 
spised against the lordly and respectable; and in it 
the greater justice will be not with, but against, the 



SOCIAL SELECTION 261 

powers that now control society. All former societies 
have lacked sufficient vitality to resist and destroy the 
immoral or unjust influences that generate commotion. 
Now it is to be seen if ours has become enough stronger 
in moral quality to go through its crisis and live. 

When a thunder-cloud arises in the physical sky we 
relieve it of its dangerous element by gently drawing it 
into the earth through the lightning-rod. But justice 
is the only conductor that will relieve the social cloud 
of its lightning, and only in extraordinary measure and 
power will this be sufficient. If the more intelligent of 
the great middle class of our country, neither poor nor 
rich, neither cultured nor ignorant, but possessing a full 
average share of common sense and moral quahty, — if 
they shall take the course that has here been indicated 
(first twelve paragraphs) in time, they may save this 
part of the world from horrors that are almost sure 
to fall upon Europe, and may accomplish a relatively 
peaceful transition from the old industrial order to the 
new. 

In this view the little conflicts between Capital and 
Labor are but the picket skirmishes preceding a far 
greater and irrepressible conflict between similar com- 
batants. The commercial world is rushing with its 
whole force toward that extreme which will bring the 
Social Revolution as its reactionary effect. 

The skirmishing of Capital and Labor will continue, 
and schemes of emigration, cooperation, and profit- 
sharing will have some effect in delaying the ultimate 
contest. It may not come immediately, for the masses 
are slow to awaken, and years are required to get 
an important idea established in the ordinary brain. 
The logic of events however, will bring people to their 
senses when all other methods fail. Occasional dyna- 
mite horrors may be expected, and military murders in 
time of strikes ; suicides and desperate crimes will be 



262 NATURAL AND 

no less frequent ; thefts, robberies, and frauds of every 
sort will be as many and as mean as they are at present. 
To the general mind there may be as many signs of fear 
as of hope ; but those who have some faith in human 
generosity, and some further in human rationality, may 
indulge a quiet belief that the conflict will end in much 
better things instead of worse. 

What the immoral condition is has always been known 
to the unfortunate classes, and to the Socialist thinker; 
but how great inequality of wealth is unjust in all cases 
has never before, perhaps, been clearly shown. The 
monopoly in ordinary mercantile operations, by which 
fortunes far beyond the average share are secured by 
some individuals, and others thereby deprived of their 
natural opportunities and portions, has not before been 
exhibited as a true monopoly. Hereafter the rich and 
fortunate will be able to understand the wrong. The 
conscientious rich man to whom these ideas may come 
will easily learn what is his duty. His wealth has cost 
far less in toil and suffering than it previously cost others 
to produce it, or else it is a plunder from the common 
storehouse of natural resources, belonging to all alike, 
both of present and future, and in either case is a wealth 
not his own beyond a certain moderate amount. All the 
rest of it belongs to the world ; and whatever the law of 
present society may allow him to do with it, morally 
and in justice, he is bound to use it only for the good of 
humanity. Inheritance can give no just title to it, 
neither can chance opportunity ; for chances, good or 
bad, are given by Nature, and should be shared as far as 
possible. Neither can the ignorance or the necessities 
of those who were willing to exchange for his profit. 
Nothing but equal labor, privation or suffering, for the 
labor privation or suffering of others is absolute justice, 
— the standard toward which we ought to strive. To 



SOCIAL SELECTION 263 

repudiate this ideal, and spend for selfish indulgence, 
ostentation, or favoritism, will violate the conscience,, 
degrade the soul, and forever torment the memory, as 
surely as the damp air of the marsh will rust the pol- 
ished steel. 

To the poor, the ignorant, the unfortunate I must say 
that with all life, vegetable, animal, and human alike. 
Nature's ways are the only ways possible until she has 
produced men sufficiently intelligent to discover her ulti- 
mate purpose, and take the work of selection out of 
her hands. Your misfortunes are a part of what has 
hitherto been the inevitable. They are the outcome of 
a selfishness common alike to every class of men. They 
result from commercial teachings as old as trade itself, 
and of practices the poor stand ready to adopt as quickly 
as the rich when the opportunities occur. Profit-making 
to the greatest extent possible is the aim of nearly all. 
Those who have succeeded and become wealthy are, 
with few exceptions, no more conscious of wrong-doing 
than those who have failed. All together have unknow- 
ingly been guilty in purpose if not in deed. Thus, with 
so little cause for mutual reproach or bitterness of feel- 
ing, there is little justification for violence or counter- 
injustice. No movement to right the wrong except an 
unselfish one — one both just and considerate — can final- 
ly prosper ; and such a one will bring good to all classes 
and conditions of men. 

But enlightenment of the intellect must precede all 
action toward improvement. All the long ages since 
society began are the time Nature has taken to develop a 
society with intellect and moral purpose to take selec- 
tion in human affairs away from herself, and complete 
the social organization by placing a true basis under all 
its most important functions. That fact, instead of being 



264 NATURAL AND 

an excuse for delay, is a reason for all practicable haste ; 
but such a change in external matters involves an equal 
or greater revolution of thought in the general mind. 
The first step toward this is the promulgation of ideas in 
a manner that will carry them into the brains of the poor 
and the rich, the worker and the idler everywhere. 
Nothing: can be done either with or asfainst men whose 
consciences are educated into the belief that injustice is 
justice, and that the order of things in the world below 
man excuses all wrong in society. When the intellect is 
convinced motives will act upon the will; and many 
whose wealth, position or mode of life now places them 
in opposition to all change will be among its energetic 
friends. The motives exist so abundantly in human 
misery that no one can then avoid feeling their impulse. 
That half the poor would starve if the rich were to 
labor, under the present conditions, is alone sufficient 
proof of the existing wrong. If monopoly and the in- 
equality of wealth were removed, and opportunity pre- 
served for all alike, all those now poor would have wants 
to be supplied, and every kind of labor, except such as 
minister to luxury and vice, would be in regular and cer- 
tain demand. All those progressive movements which 
aim to benefit mankind would spring up into new life and 
vigor; for the poverty of one class, and the selfish indul- 
gence of another, now act as a C07istant obstruction to 
progress. Inequality is the great incubus, fastening itself 
on the breast of society, and rendering it more and more 
helpless for all good work or moral growth. Democracy, 
Education, Morality, every kind of improvement, will be 
gradually strangled, and society itself will die in the con- 
vulsions of anarchy, if it is not thrown off completely and 
forever. 

In view, then, of the two great antagonistic tendencies 
that have been exhibited, and as a matter of vital mo- 
ment for the present hour, it becomes the duty of every 



SOCIAL SELECTION 265 

man and woman, who has obtained a partial view of the 
future, to take up a missionary work in the circulation of 
ideas that shall help awaken society to a conscious sense 
of its actual situation. 

It will be expected that before leaving the subject I 
should give some intimation of how the criminal, worth- 
less, or inferior members of the social body are to be 
eliminated by humane means, in place of the savage proc- 
ess of Natural Selection, as it exhibits itself in competi- 
tive society. The problem does not seem to me so very 
difficult, and perhaps might not to others if there were a 
more earnest desire to solve it, and especially if there 
were more thought of doing so through a method of jus- 
lice, instead of an unjust one like Malthusianism. 

It has already been said that the incorrigible or unsafe 
criminal should be secluded for life, and the perpetuation 
of his breed thus prevented. And when besides this we 
do justice to woman, by securing to her the opportunity 
of earning her own subsistence in all cases, and so make 
her sufficiently independent to follow the dictates of her 
own conscience in regard to childbearing, the problem, I 
"believe, will very nearly solve itself. It will be one of 
those things that come right by natural outworking, 
after the great first business of life, the winning of bread, 
clothing and shelter, shall be settled on a true basis. 
When woman is able to be true to herself and live, and 
her education ceases to be directed toward marriage as a 
means of support, she, like her brother man, will naturally 
prefer to grow upward rather than downward, and to do 
a right thing sooner than a wrong one. There is no 
woman so stupid or perverse that she would not rather 
have bright, healthy, beautiful and amiable children than 
feeble-minded, sickly, deformed or depraved ones. If 
single she is not likely to marry a man who will be the 
father of the latter sort, nor if married will she continue 



266 NATURAL AND 

to bear them one after another, to her own suffering, 
danger and disgrace, when she can any day turn her 
hand to some labor that Avill supply all her needs inde- 
pendently of such a man. When her own woik will give 
her a home she will not sell herself to some inferior man 
to obtain one. With employment already assured to her, 
and the same pay for it that man receives for his, she 
is not going to marry some worthless wretch in order to 
get occupation for herself by keeping his house. When 
wealth shall be so evenly distributed that it confers no 
great distinction or advantage, she will not for a fine es- 
tablishment throw herself away on some rich, fast-living, 
diseased roue, old or young, and help to fill the world 
with feeble, scrofulous imitations of humanity, a perpet- 
ual misery to her and themselves, till they fall into their 
premature graves. 

Moreover, with woman sure of being able to realize a 
home through her own labor, she will be less anxious to 
marry, and less liable to seduction ; while, if seduction 
still rarely happened, she would not be driven into pros- 
titution, and her child educated into degradation or 
crime, by their being made social outcasts as now. So 
far as regards this last matter, any change will be better 
than the infernal teaching and sentiment than now drives 
betrayed women of keen sensitiveness into despair and 
suicide, or if capable of more endurance into a life of 
shame. The masses of men and women read of the 
instances in their newspapers every day in the year, 
yet with true Chinese stolidity, look upon them as a 
matter of course, that will never be any different. The 
polygyny and polyandry of the savage never pro- 
duce such horrible results as do the fiendish notions of 
Christendom.* 

♦Francis Estrada was a young Cuban who had been tossed about the world since 
childhood, and early yesterday morning he swallowed a dose of Paris green and 
gave up the struggle to live. The only mourner who stood above his body yester- 
day in his room at 25 Bleecker street was a girl he had picked out of the streets, 
Maggie Wallace, and whom he had made his wife. She had been betrayed a few 



SOCIAL SELECTION 26/ 

Still further, when woman shall find that it is possible 
for her to have superior children, instead of being com- 
pelled to have poor ones or none, as a large proportion 
of women now must, she will be likely to take some 
interest in the question of human selection through par- 
entage, and do whatever she is able toward producing a 
superior strain. Then that dream of certain enthusiastic 
minds called Artistic Parentage may in some cases come 
to be approximately realized. It is hardly possible until 
the woman, as well as the man, can have some freer 
choice about who the other parent shall be. 

But now, the inferior and discarded ones, these victims 
of a cruel fortune, suffering for the sins or bad fate of 
their ancestors, many of them fine-grained and sensitive, 
capable of strong domestic attachments, and of making 
pleasant homes, — are these to go forever without love, 
dragging out miserable lives of loneliness, that kill by 
slow torture.? Not at ail. Let the men of this class have 



months ago, and when he met her, was one of the thousands of the city's un- 
fortunates. 

Both had been flung out of the society of comfortable people, and so they joined 
their fortunes, and in her rooms on Bleecker street began life anew. They had 
been legally married, and everything goes to show that the woman foreswore all 
her evil ways on Christmas eve, when she became Estrada's wife. 

His father died years ago, and when his mother married into an American 
family her child was sent out into the world. The day after Christmas Estrada 
started out to canvass for a Broadway photographer. He met with little success, 
although he worked hard and was assisted in his endeavors by the woman he had 
made his wife. 

Their room was on the second floor of the house, but they passed mxich of their 
tiijae in the room of a couple on the floor below. Day after day he spoke of his 
fruitless effort to make a living. 

This is her story of his last night on earth : " I saw him,'' she said yesterday, 
"at 7.30, when became home from work, and gave him some money. I had to 
get something to eat I then noticed he was vomiting, but thought it was from 
drinking. He went out and I saw him again at 11 o'clock sitting on the sofa in 
Mrs. Desser's room (on the first floor). He said he was too sick to go up stairs, 
and I returned to my room. He went to sleep on the sofa, and I came down stairs 
at 6.30 a. m., and found him lying dead on the floor." 

Mrs. Desser, who slept in the room in which Estrada died, said: "I saw him 
.standing outside at 11 p. m., and he said he did not feel well. I asked him to come 
inside, and when he did we laid him on the sofa to sleep. He was moaning and 
vomiting all night, and in the morning when we awoke we found him on the floor 
dead." 

They took the dead man off the sofa and laid him on the floor. Over his body 
they threw a tattered blanket and then sent for the police. His lips were firm set 
and his hands were clenched as though in his last agony he had made a desperate 
attempt to hold the thread of life. The Coroner said Estrada had poisoned him- 
self, as every one knew quite well. The body was removed to an undertaker's for 
burial. 

Maggie Wallace, or Mrs. Estrada, is now in the same position in life as before 
Estrada met her, and the people who saw her looking at the body of the man who 



268 NATURAL AND 

whatever love they can honestly win from women who 
are past the age of childbearing ; and let the women of 
such ag-e be free to accept whatever of it they can attract 
and hold. They have morally no right to it sooner ; and 
if before this they attempt, by frauds against nature, to 
enjoy it, yet prevent its natural results, that unnatural 
kind of love is likely to prove far worse than none. If 
they must have children on which to set their affections 
there will probably be a sufficient number of healthy 
orphans to be adopted ; and scores of facts go to prove 
that when these are truly adopted the parental instinct 
becomes as well satisfied as with children of the same 
flesh and blood. With these they can have families and 
homes ; v.^hile the moral sense in all persons will ap- 
prove such a course, and no misery will have to be 
endured as an affliction of society. 

Those who are too weak-minded, reckless, diseased or 
intemperate to be worthy of love, home or family can 
only be allowed to live and die in as much comfort as 

had befriended her and struggled in vain to support her, wondered whether all 
the Christian and charitable societies in the city would prove as sacrificing a friend 
to her as the unfortunate she met a few weeks ago. N. T. Press, January 12, '89. 

Here is another case from the same paper, Dec. 13, '88. 

The mystery surrounding the suicide of the beautiful young woman from the 
ferryboat Jay Gould, plying between Jersey City and Twenty-third street, Tuesday 
night, remains unsolved. Her body is stiU in the keeping of the dark waters to 
Avhich she confided it. It was a strange suicide, and it doubtless was done to hide 
a deep secret. For nearly an hour the young woman, who was handsomely attired, 
went to and fro while the boat was on her trips, irresolute and wavering. Tears 
welled in her large, lustrous eyes as she wandered aboixt, apparently in sore 
distress. 

At least 100 women must have noticed her distress, but they all pulled their 
dresses more closely about them, lest the hem of their garments might be touched 
by her as she passed up and down in her walks. A kind word might have saved 
her ; a thoughtful inquiry into her troubles might have eased her spirit. But 
they came not, and diiring two trips the poor unfortunate stayed upon the boat, 
desiring to end her existence and yet hesitating. At Jength two men noticed her 
and divined her purpose. They sought to watch her, but she eluded them, and, 
fearing possibly that her secret might be discovered, she became suddenly reso- 
lute, jumped quickly upon the guardrail of the boat, folded her arms upon her 
breast, leaned over and fell into the river. So far as known she uttered no word. 

The ferryboat was, of course, at once stopped and search made for her, but the 
river had claimed her body, and the boat kept on, while the women whispered the 
thousand things that have induced the unfortunate to end her life so rashly. The 
river is now being dragged for the body. 

"Often," said Dr. Kate BushneU, "at a meeting of the W. C. T. Union, have I 
tramped the streets of Chicago for days trying to find some one to take into their 
homes a young helpless girl who had no home, no friends — nothing but the street 
for a refuge, and usually it has been a fruitless search. I have returned only to 
place iu the young mothers arms her helpless baby and turn her out into the 
world. Heaven only knows what became of them." 



SOCIAL SELECTION 269 

their labor, aided by the benevolent care of individuals, 
will enable them to obtain, under industrial conditions 
similar to those lately outlined, which will at least per- 
mit them to be selected out without starvation, brutality, 
or injustice. 

No one however, will suppose that all this can be 
done with thoroughness till a far better degree of knowl- 
edge concerning the human body and mind shall become 
prevalent among the social masses. The more complete 
this knowledge the more complete the work. 

I will close this chapter with a quotation from an or- 
thodox Christian source, which is another testimony go- 
ing to show that in the church, half dead as it seems to 
be, there is considerable thought upon these matters, and 
that such social heresies as are here presented are not 
without countenance from the Christian world. Like a 
former quotation it is from the ** Gesta Christi " of Charles 
L. Brace, a book which Dr. Storrs of Brooklyn pronounced 
worthy of being circulated by the million. 

"It is not to be assumed, as is done by most writers on 
this subject, that the modern form of the distribution of 
wealth is the final and perfect one, and that society as it 
now IS is substantially what it must be m all coming ages, 
or what our Lord contemplated in His future Kingdom of 
Heaven or regenerated society of all men. A Christian 
writer in the early Middle Ages would have had equal 
right to assume that society must always be made up of 
landlords owning vast tracts of country, who protected 
their vassals, of large bodies of military followers, and of 
serfs bound to the soil; or that justice in regard to quar- 
rels over property and land must always be decided by 
the judicial duel. Neither of these conditions was di- 
rectly touched upon by the teachings of the great Re- 
former ; yet the principles he taught must gradually un- 
dermine both. The feudal system belonged to a stage of 
human progress. The modern industrial and commercial 
system may be equally a phase in the gradual change or 
advance of mankind. A condition of society in which 



2/0 NATURAL AND 

enormous masses of human beings are born to an almost 
inevitable lot of squalor, penury, and ignorance ; and 
still other multitudes to incessant labor, with few allevia- 
tions or enjoyments ; while another considerable class, 
with little or no effort of their own, have all the blessings 
of life and transmit them to others — in other words, an 
industrial system which leaves to the few who are 
gifted with the brains, or enjoy the fortune, to lead in- 
dustrial enterprises, the power to reap the benefits of la- 
bor, while the many who toil only gain a bare pittance — 
a society which presents on one side enormous accumu- 
lations of wealth, while on the other it offers classes 
ground down by poverty and pinched with want, is cer- 
tainly not the Christian ideal of society, or any approach 
to the ' Kingdom of God on earth.' 

"The great moral progress of the future of the race will 
plainly be toward some form of a more equable distribu- 
tion of the proceeds of labor. What form this will take 
it is as impossible to predict as it would have been for 
a citizen of the Roman empire at the time of Tacitus to. 
predict the present condition of Europe.* * * 

"If we read Christ's teachings with perfect candor, 
and as far removed from present habits of thought as 
possible, we discover a continual tendency towards 
exalting poverty, humbling wealth and equalizing the 
conditions of life.* * * There is a certain tone through- 
out the gospels, if not of communism, at least in favor 
of greater distribution of wealth than would suit modern 
ideas. Christ and the apostles warn incessantly against 
accumulation of wealth. They almost denounce the 
rich; they praise and commend the poor; their sympa- 
thies are strongly with the working classes ; they urge 
continually the diffusion of property in whatever way 
would benefit the world; they warn those who do not 
scatter their acquisitions among the needy ; they leave 
the impression everywhere that a greater equalizing of 
human goods, a moderate acquisition, and a raising up 
from poverty is what is demanded. The parable of 
Lazarus has been too often interpreted under modern 
conditions, and it may well be that some explanatory 
features given by Christ are omitted by the histor- 
ian ; but its literal interpretation plainly contains a plea 



SOCIAL SELECTION 2/1 

against the great inequalities of fortune in this world." 
(Gesta Christ!, pp. 93-5). 

The tracing out of the details of operation, in changing 
from one social regime to the other, and of the adminis- 
tration afterward, is a task not contemplated for this 
"book. Some of those changes may be difficult ; many of 
them will appear so to those who have no sympathy 
with socialistic effort ; none will prove irripossible when 
the demand for them comes in sufficient strength. They 
are mostly to be inferred from the principles set forth 
at the beginning of this chapter. Some outlines, not 
supposed to be altogether certain, can be found in the 
''Cooperative Commonwealth,'' of Lawrence Gronlund, 
and perhaps others in other socialistic works. 




^* 



CHAPTER XII. 

NATURAL AND SOCIAL SELECTION. 

{Coniinued.') 



HAVING in the previous chapters exhibited the great 
conflict perpetually going on, and soon to reach 
its crisis, between the selfish spirit operating under the 
law of Natural Selection, by which might makes right, 
and the unselfish or social spirit striving for justice or the 
greatest amount of happiness ; and having in the last 
one referred to some of the steps now being taken in the 
transforming process that must ultimately revolutionize 
our present industrial methods, I must now go farther 
and suggest how the methods of justice may be m(5re 
completely carried out, in that still more advanced con- 
dition which is the Ideal held forth in this book. 

The system outlined as to its fundamental principles in 
the last chapter will necessarily precede anything more 
perfect; for those principles must have recognition be- 
fore there can be any truly just society. Being accepted 
and carried into actual operations, the minor questions of 
right and wrong in industry tend to decide themselves. 
The more important affairs of life being settled on a ba- 
sis of acknowledged justice, the predominance of justice 
in these works itself out into all the less important till 



SOCIAL SELECTION 2/3 

it becomes universal. As no contention, great or small, 
can be permanently disposed of till done righteously, this 
is the reason the final question will come to be with 
every man whether his love of justice shall enable him to 
be content wi^'h only what belongs to him. 

When any social body of considerable size shall adopt 
the basic principles of such a plan it will be a most hope- 
ful indication of an approach toward the unselfish stage 
of development in a considerable number of people ; and 
a reasonably sure promise of its arrival to them within a 
comparatively brief period. For, the unselfish stage in 
regard to industry is little more than the application of 
justice to all its details, as justice has been defined in these 
papers. And when an individual shall be capable of this 
he will probably be capable of becoming unselfish in re- 
gard to all the conduct of life. 

AH the various improvements in the method of con- 
ducting industry are steps or stages toward the Kingdom 
of the Unselfish, in which there will be complete liberty 
and perfect justice — freedom of trade no less than of 
everything else, and industrial justice as one of the most 
necessary of all things. Trade can safely be free only 
when it is honest, when it ceases to be a means of rob- 
bery or exploitation, either of individual by individual, 
or of nation by nation. Then it may be as free as the 
southwest wind, wandering over the earth as it will, and 
carrying a healthful influence wherever it goes, with no 
one wishing to hinder its progress. 

The Ideal State contemplated comes by a growth of 
the mind from the natural selfish into the cultivated un- 
selfish stage of development. None of the schemes for 
improving the industrial condition proposes to change 
the selfish spirit into the unselfish through a higher en- 
lightenment, or promises to assist that change, except in 
the slow and gradual way it is always being advanced 
under favoring circumstances. By creating such circum- 



274 NATURAL AND 

stances, some of them, and especially that last described, 
and approximately known under the name of Social 
Democracy, will aid largely in bringing the final out- 
come, by giving independence to the character of the 
individual, and enabling him to obtain the means of a 
better culture, besides taking away in some cases the 
means of corruption. They are called steps or stages, in 
an industrial sense, as an improved political or religious 
condition may be a step in the same direction of a dif- 
ferent kind. The industrial steps, however, will be of a 
more effective character, as it seems to me, than any 
other that can be taken. 

But, it may still be well to observe, until the Unselfish 
Condition is reached no complete equality will exist. 
Though industrial justice may do much to advance men 
in the direction of that state, the true equality, that com- 
mands the respect of the best, is the moral and intellec- 
tual equality that comes only after sufficient culture has 
been g&ined to allow of pride and bigotry being subdued, 
so that the less advanced can, with true willingness to 
learn, and desire to grow, be drawn or lifted up to the 
higher level. 

And further, while the adoption of such an industrial 
regime might be a great help toward the complete mor- 
alization of persons and affairs, we are not dependent on 
it as the only means of introducing such a state among 
individuals. On the contrary, the more highly moralized 
individuals must labor to bring about the conversion of 
the masses to the acceptance of such a system. But 
either with or without it, and under the most favorable 
conditions of things as they now are, individuals will 
still be likely to advance, one by one and group by 
group, into the Unselfish Stage. 

The main point in the industrial philosophy of Unself- 
ishness was given to the world forty years ago, in the 



SOCIAL SELECTION 2/5 

formulas, "Equal labor for labor," and " Cost the limit of 
price," by Josiah Warren, a man of whom few have ever 
heard, but whose name ought not to be forgotten by the 
generations of the future. "Cost," means labor, priva- 
tion, endurance, suffering ; and together, these formulas 
mean equality in labor, and equality in its results, be- 
tween man and man. They are completely antithetical 
to all the doctrine and spirit of the individualistic, com_ 
petitive regime, with its profit-making, speculation, gam_ 
bling, and extortion ; they ignore Political Economy, 
that pretentious and wonderful science which consists 
mainly in teaching freedom for whoever is able, to lay 
hold of whatever he or they can get, or for whoever can 
resist, to keep it from being taken. They are in short, 
the embodiment and representative of Justice, and of the 
greatest ultimate good in all industrial arrangements, — 
the extreme opposite of all that now obtains. 

Mr. Warren at the same time believed in the most 
complete individualism in the ownership of property, 
and control of business affairs. He stated the dogma of 
the "Sovereignty of the Individual" in its most absolute 
form, so far as regards these subjects of its application; 
but strictly limited in all cases by the proviso, — "to be 
exercised only at his own cost." He took no position 
regarding the common possession of land, and of the 
free productions of nature, nor any concerning the right 
of opportunity to labor ; but as his doctrine of Cost, or 
of Equal labor for labor, would operate to prevent all 
speculation, monopoly, extortion and profit-making (be- 
yond payment for labor) the whole natural effect could 
be but little if any different from that of an individual 
management or superintendence of industrial affairs for 
the benefit of all, similar to what would exist under In- 
dustrial Democracy, except that the individual appoints 
himself instead of being elected. At any rate, his indi- 
vidualism in industry, subject to the Cost principle, is a 



2/6 NATURAL AND 

very different thing from individualism on the principle 
of obtaining as much as possible at the least cost ; and 
apparently it could do little harm. Of the experiments 
made by himself and by his disciples I find it difficult to 
say much ; they were both successful and unsuccessful ; 
and for the final failure various causes existed, aside 
from impeT-^ections in the theory professedly taken as a 
guide. The Cost principle is the original, peculiar, pre- 
dominant and vital part of his teaching; and this is 
a genuine contribution to the world's knowledge and 
thought. 

Turning now from the contrast of ideas let us see so- 
ciety as it is under the influence of one set of them, 
before representing it as it will be under the dominance 
of the other. It is not difficult to perceive how the ani- 
mus of the " let alone" doctrine has permeated all the so- 
cial divisions, and is manifested about us in every-day 
life. It is the spirit of the natural, unprogressed man and 
would appear in abundant measure without encourage- 
ment; but the economic teaching does nothing to check 
it, and when by severe competition the struggle for the 
means of living becomes intense, and self-preservation 
the first object, religious or moral teaching has little ef- 
fect, while the church itself is fettered and gagged by 
having accepted the same economic doctrine. We may 
see the generality of the population bent upon self-indul- 
gence nearly as much as at any time in the past; the ex- 
ception is only somewhat larger. In the general opinion, 
when a man has accumulated money he has a right to 
spend it for selfish ends if he chooses. He himself be- 
lieves in this right more strongly than anyone else, and 
if remonstrated with will quickly give an answer not al- 
together polite. The rich therefore, with few exceptions, 
use their wealth for luxury, for high living, for amuse- 
ments, for magnificence and ostentation. All the poor 



SOCIAL SELECTION 2// 

and ignorant have of course no higher motive, and so 
spend whatever they can spare for the luxuries of tobacco, 
beer, and liquors, for cheap entertainments, for pleasures 
of poorer quality and greater danger than those of the rich. 
It is true that the poor, having less of comforts, have 
stronger temptations to a bad use of money ; but blind 
selfish gratification seems to be the almost universal ob- 
ject, and few think of questioning the right to pursue it. 
Women are animated by the same disposition as men, 
and so far as they have the means most of them take the 
same course, in a useless life of pleasure, just as two 
thousand years ago. The justification of selfishness is 
the same now as then, namely, the right because one has 
the power. All suffer for want of a higher purpose ; 
some of the best doubtless feel keenly the need of an all- 
controlling, unselfish object for which to live and labor. 
Pleasure ends in vanity and disappointment, as the very 
least of its bad results. 

That *'life is a fraud " is a feeling so common one can 
meet with it almost any day, and thoughtful people 
gravely discuss the question, "Is life worth living," just 
as they might have done in the Dark Ages or the days of 
Roman decline, when anarchy, vice, crime and civil 
war were almost perpetual everywhere. Though our 
ago is supposed to be the happiest the world has ever 
seen, the Pessimistic philosophy has sprung up among 
thinkers more strongly than ever before. Every one 
seems conscious of the misery caused by universal self- 
ishness ; yet every one insists that it is absolutely neces- 
sary for him or her to be selfish in order to live. "It is 
the competitive Hfe," writes some one, "that crucifies 
humanity." 

We see the selfish spirit very plainly in the prevalent 
indifference regarding human welfare and even human 
life. Every one has all he can do in looking out for him- 
self. No one feels it his duty to pay much attention to 



278 NATURAL AND 

any wrong or suffering going on about him. He may 
give something if asked for a contribution, but is not 
disposed to take any trouble. His nearest neighbor is 
no more to him than the most distant stranger. Rail- 
roads, explosions, accidents of every kind, may kill 
their victims by the score or hundred, yet seldom is any 
effective precaution against them adopted, and they 
continue year after year. It is the same in regard to 
crime. An innocent man maybe murdered by a gang 
of roughs on an excursion steamboat, and no one ever 
be punished for it. A young immigrant woman sets out 
alone to find her friends in the city, and is never heard 
from again, but no effort worth mentioning is made to 
find her. A little girl is murdered and her mangled body 
thrown into the marsh within sight of houses where 
people live, and the police do not so much as find a clue 
that is worth tracing. A man's life is of small account, 
a woman's less, and her virtue scarcely anything, while 
the body of a poor man's child may be thrown to dogs; 
no appropriate effort is made in either case to bring the 
guilty to justice. Had the general public possessed any 
more than the mere rudiments of a conscience, any 
proper human feeling, a thousand detectives if necessary 
would have been put upon the search for the lost and 
for the criminals ; and no lawyers tricks, or stupid gen- 
erosity of the law itself would have been permitted to 
let the villians escape. As it is, the law is so made and 
construed by the lawyer class that criminals often es- 
cape from it more easily than innocent persons, and 
thousands of them infest society, preying upon it with 
little danger to themselves, and constant benefit to the 
lawyer. Each individual leaves everything but his own 
immediate concerns to be looked after by somebody 
else. He votes once a year perhaps, for the officials 
who are to do everything that is just and right, and that 
is as much trouble as he can afford to take. ''Every one 



SOCIAL SELECTION 2/9 

for himself and the devil take the hindmost," once a 
witty proverb of occasional application, has now be- 
come so universally applicable it is quoted only as a 
serious expression of the truth. 

"It is time he was dead when he cannot support 
himself," is an expression I have heard regarding an 
old man, from one not so hard-hearted as the average 
of people, and it went without protest from half-a-dozen 
others to whom it was addressed. No doubt it seemed 
to them entirely in harmony with the actual state of 
things. 

Now, it may be again said, this is simply the selfish 
feeling that would exist whether we had any knowledge 
of Natural Selection or not ; but it is well to notice clear- 
ly that the free-competition sentiment, reenforced of late 
years by Natural Selection, justifies or excuses it and 
makes it worse. In this country we have had that 
sentiment instilled into us from childhood, because 
everything in our earlier condition has suggested and 
encouraged it. Our new soil and other resources, with 
boundless opportunity for every one to take his own 
way in making a fortune, has developed that sentiment 
and its corresponding action. Craft and cheating come 
to be gloried in by men of no conscience, as proofs of 
superior intelligence. To discover, and take advantage 
of, some particular ignorance or weakness, is to them a 
wonderful thing to do ; while the public opinion of the 
business community does not condemn them for thus 
glorying in their shame. The end of the process is now 
beginning to appear in speculating combinations of all 
sorts, for exploiting, not the workingman only, but the 
professional class and the rich as well, indeed all who 
have wants to be supplied. 

Every man is opposed to his neighbor or to more than 
one. All are constantly baffling each others efforts, 
using up time and energy in preventing another from 



28o NATURAL AND 

getting something wanted for self. Besides the waste of 
time and strength, there is a constant wear and tear 
upon the physical system from the friction and discord, 
the irritation, disappointment, defeat and loss endured • 
still worse, there is a hardening effect upon the moral 
sensibilities, making one unfeeling, rough, obstinate, 
cruel and revengeful. Much kindness and good nature 
it is true, exist in spite of this ; for whatever honest and 
natural trade there is is conducive to friendship. But 
the conflict of interests and antagonism of feeling is 
what every one experiences in some degree. Jealousy, 
the fear that some one else may get a desired some- 
thing, often causes men to defeat even their own selfish 
interests. In extreme cases it renders them unsocial, 
miserly and base. 

In the Kingdom of the Unselfish, that Empire of a more 
far-seeing Wisdom, all this tendency will be reversed by 
a sentiment, poHcy, and conduct which enables all the 
kind and friendly impulses to flow forth freely under all 
circumstances. Mutual help and cooperation will be the 
rule. No one will try to appropriate all he can get, be- 
cause no one will assert a right to possess more than the 
average share. The use of the earth and all it contains 
w411 be acknowledged as the common possession, in which 
every one has an equal right or claim. Every one will 
be industrious, and make due exertion to obtain whatever 
is necessary for comfort or convenience ; but no one de- 
siring more than the rest can have, all are free and will- 
ing, yea glad, to assist the one who is less successful than 
his fellows. All will be ready to submit to friendly criti- 
cism (by the way, there will be no other kind), and by 
this means each will be aided to find the occupation best 
suited to his or her capacity and acquirements.- All em- 
ployments will be held in honor, because of the superior 
importance or necessity of what are now commonly 



SOCIAL SELECTION 28 1 

called the lowest ones. The consciousness that these 
employments are thus looked upon will take away much 
of their unpleasantness, will enable one to respect him- 
self in spite of the most offensive work, and will enable 
all to treat him wuth that equal respect which is his due, 
or allow themselves to take their equal share of such 
work. But even this is not the crowning- glory of the 
industrial system that is to be. Equal labor for labor, — 
equal endurance or suffering in return for the hardship of 
toil, — this will be the only acknowledged just rule for 
labor's compensation. Under this rule the most disagree- 
able work will receive the highest pay. Nothing can be 
more self-evidently just and right ; and the people here 
contemplated will have no selfish interests or feelings, no 
bigotry or mental cowardice, sufficient to prevent their 
seeing a just principle, and acting in accordance with it. 
An average amount of work, of average hardship, u^ill 
then be entitled to an average income ; and work of 
other kinds can be judged of by this standard. When 
every one is as desirous to do justice as to exact it, there 
vv^ill be no dispute about wages or prices ; and when 
every one knows he will not be cheated or taken advan- 
tage of, there will be no effort to obtain too much. In 
agreement with the same principle, knowledge will be 
cheap, and education easy to get. Trades and occupa- 
tions may be learned at much less cost of labor or money 
than now ; for the pay of the teacher will be but little 
greater than that of the learner; and experiments made 
years ago have shown that occupations can be learned 
very quickly, when one person has an attraction for learn- 
ing, and another • for teaching. Mutual good will will 
take away the annoyance, friction, and tediousness of or- 
dinary labor ; while ability to change employments and 
surroundings occasionally, in consequence of having 
skill in several kinds of work, will render it so interesting: 
that scarcely any of the disagreeable features now be- 
longing to it will remain. 



282 NATURAL AND 

Partnerships among such people, or rather combined 
management of business affairs, for there will be no 
partnerships of the present kind, will be easy and pleas- 
ant ; because with every one willing to do his part, and 
to receive criticism when he undesignedly fails, they 
could not be otherwise. Indeed every person will be 
operating for the benefit of the whole as much as for 
himself, without any special arrangement or combina- 
tion. Where all are trustworthy no watching will be 
needed, nor will there be any expense for law. Credit, 
if any shall be necessary,, will be as free as cold water, 
and equally safe to give or take. 

Here is where the mechanic, the farmer, the worker at 
any work, no matter how simple, can become the 
artist as well as artisan. For with the right feeling in 
regard to labor, shown in all around him, and knowing 
that he will be fully paid, the drudgery now attached to 
it will disappear ; he will choose what he can do best, 
will take interest in it, will perform it in the best man- 
ner, and feel pleasure and pride in it as an artistic ac- 
complishment. The "dignity of labor" will obtain a 
higher meaning than ever before, and will come to be a 
realized thing. This can never be under the regime of 
Competition ; for the artisan can have no motive to do 
well, either in friendly feeling to others, or in the con- 
sciousness of being well paid for it; he must aim to do 
his work just well enough to retain his employment, 
and as much as he can of that quality, in order to earn 
good wages. 

When no one is idle, but all are self-sustaining, having 
sufficient means to satisfy their rational wants, with all 
kinds of swindling in disgrace, and credit universal, 
there will be no lack of employment ; while with subsis- 
tence assured, by the admitted right of all to equal 
shares in whatever employment or opportunity there is, 
with sympathy and aid to be depended upon in case of 



SOCIAL SELECTION 283 

accident or other misfortune, no one will be tempted or 
impelled to overwork. All will labor nearly the same 
amount of time ; in the ordinary occupations all will 
receive nearly the same pay ; all will be likely to realize 
nearly the same yearly income ; all will have sufficient 
wants to keep them busy. No hard times will be known 
there ; for there will be no over-trading- or speculation, 
no monopolies, no excessive wealth to waste, no distinc- 
tion or honor to be gained by senseless display and 
extravagance. Wealth will have no more power than so 
much dirt. 

There will be no communism in the old sense of that 
word, but a common management of the natural re- 
sources belonging to all. Every one's right to control 
and use the property produced by his or her own labor 
will be sacredly respected. No one will wish to inter- 
fere in the least, nor will any one have any excuse for 
such desire ; because the outcome will be the posses- 
sion of property by every man and woman, and in 
a comparatively equal amount, with all the benefits 
thus implied. It will be substantially the condition the 
communist desires, but the \yhole achieved without 
the least infringement of personal liberty or personal 
ownership. 

Neither will such people be so unthoughtful of the 
wants of posterity as to allow the reckless waste now 
going on everywhere to continue where they can pre- 
vent. When persons have become so far unselfish as 
to have a true regard for the welfare of others, now 
living, it will be easy enough for them to consider the 
rights of those who are to come. They will scarcely 
more think of wasting the materials belonging to the 
future than of throwing away the bread of their own 
children. 

Because all will be sufficiently unselfish to constantly 
bear in mind the liberty, rights, comfort, convenience 



284 NATURAL AND 

and welfare of all others, they wiir be able to live in 
unitary homes, or practice any method of close asso- 
ciation that may be advantageous. They will do it 
without discord or serious disagreement ; an achievment 
never accomplished, I think, under any scheme of living 
yet tried. 

Still further, though every one will try to do his un- 
selfish best, yet when he fails to come up to the ideal, 
as every one will fail in some degree, instead of meeting 
the harsh, exacting, selfish criticism of the competitive 
world, he will meet a generous spirit, exacting less than 
it might. He will be referred to his own sense of justice 
and duty, allowed to set his own standard, to make his 
own excuse, to judge and condemn himself, as the one 
best capable of doing so properly. In a word, our 
standard will be set up for ourselves as much as for 
another. And in this atmosphere of charity and gener- 
osity even the vilest criminal, were he taken into it, could 
hardly fail to improve ; certainly not the kind of person 
contemplated. 

Those who have followed me through the earlier chap- 
ters well know what my justification is for believing 
such a state of things to be possible. To those who have 
not let me repeat that the people who are to bring about 
this condition have themselves first been brought into 
that stage of mental and moral growth which I have 
compared to the blossoming stage in the plant, or the 
pubescent period of the animal ; when the intellect is 
mature and the conscience full-grown ; when the individ- 
ual is able to criticise all his behefs, prepossessions and 
assumed knowledge ; when he is ready to investigate new 
claims, and accept new truth from any quarter; when 
his conquest of the selfish feelings is complete, so that no 
conscious wrong-doing is possible to him, or conscious 
leaving of duty undone. To persons of this character 



SOCIAL SELECTION 285 

nothing here described will be impossible ; on the con- 
trary there is nothing in it they will not desire to do, and 
to assist others in doing. That condition of society will 
be as natural to them as the present competitive striie is 
to the selfish man of this time, the stout-bodied, broad- 
headed man who eats and drinks, builds railroads and 
makes iTioney, runs for office, and tramples down his op- 
ponents, as though such work were the grandest perform- 
ance a human being could do. 

That hard problem of how justly to decide what part 
of industry's product shall be allowed to talent and skill, 
is here seen to be solved like that of inherited wealth. 
When once the selfish spirit is given up, it is easy to ac- 
knowledge that talent is an inherited possession — a piece 
of good fortune — a share of that fortune which, good or 
bad, is the endowment of Nature, from which none 
should profit, and none be allowed to suffer, so far as 
prevention is possible. Being a part of that which 
Nature has furnished the possessor without cost of labor 
or suffering, he has no moral right to take advantage of 
it; he has no better right to use it for profit than he 
has to use inherited wealth to monopolize opportunity. 
What costs him nothing does not belong to him for 
selfish uses. He can justly ask a return only for labor 
performed or suffering endured ; and this he receives in 
equal labor or liardship endured by others for him. In 
the moral condition referred to the man of talent will 
rejoice in the superior ability it gives him, and be satis- 
fied with that, having nQ desire to use it for putting a 
greater separation between himself and his fellows. 

Skill that has been acquired by labor or study — me- 
chanical or professional skill — is entitled to something 
more than crude, untaught exertion could obtain, in 
order to reward the exertion spent ni acquiring it To a 
greater amount than this it has no just claim. 

Everything is determined by the one simple principle 



286 NATURAL AND 

that what Nature furnishes free of cost should be enjoyed 
alike by all ; and that when Nature takes away, as by 
drouth, flood, earthquake, tornado, pestilence, fire, or un- 
avoidable accident, all should help to bear, or to make 
good, the loss. This is true sympathy ; this alone is the 
complete ideal of justice; this is what high souls every- 
where and always instinctively know to be right. 

In this new social state every possession becomes 
moralized, or as I prefer to say, unselfish; every faculty 
of mind and body, as well as material riches. Our Posi- 
tivist friends have talked of the moralization of wealth as 
something possible under the rule of competition and 
selfishness, by the natural progress of opinion. By the 
rich becoming more enlightened they are judged likely to 
become so far moralized as to use their wealth for the 
world's good. But the Positivists have never given the 
rich man any reason why he should do this — that is, any 
new or better reason than he has had always. They 
have never shown him the justice of it, neither, in a com- 
plete way, have any of our socialists or reformers. They 
expect hini (except the socialists) to become generous, at 
the same time that all their theories justify him in being 
selfish. All the economists, without exception, allow him 
a complete right to the selfish use of his property. The 
great religious Teacher condemned the rich, and re- 
quired them to distribute to the poor before they became 
the followers of him ; but, so far as recorded, he set 
forth no grounds on which they could see the require- 
ment to be just. When the justice, as well as the gen- 
erosity of it, shall be once perceived, many of them will 
act according to conscience. 

The propriety of moralizing talent, or rendering it un- 
selfish, is yet harder to understand, under present teach- 
ings. Not long ago I read an elaborate argument from a 
radical American Individualist in defence of perpetual 
property in inventions, — that patents and copyrights 



SOCIAL SELECTION 28/ 

should be capable of being owned as long as a person 
lived, and then transmittible to his children. Now, this 
is the strict logical inference from ail the most orthodox 
instruction concerning property. A thing legally gained 
and possessed, becomes absolute property, however 
acquired, and may be transferred by sale or gift forever. 
Knowledge, trade secrets, discovery or invention, that 
can be made profitable by sale or purchase, is equally 
property forever by the same law. Whatever falls to a 
man's possession by the good fortune of inheritance, or 
accidental discovery, is by the right of first obtainment, 
his to turn to his selfish account in the best way he can. 
If others want any share in his good luck they must pay 
for it, — is what modern economists and moralists tell us 
to be the true doctrine, conservative of morals and prop- 
erty, of industry, order and peace. 

In contrast to all this, in the new Kingdom or Empire 
all good or bad fortune will be the good or bad fortune 
of every one so far as all can partake. An accident 
that disables or destroys will call effectually for the 
sympathy and aid of all ; an accidental good fortune, a 
discovery, an invention accomplished through the help 
of knowledge already existing, or present materials 
turned to a better use by means of existing talent or 
skill, — these are shared by all. They cost nothing ex- 
cept the time, thought and labor expended in making 
them available for use. Except this labor put into them, 
they are what Nature, or natural law and force, opera- 
ting through human nature as well as outside of it, has 
in some way produced, without cost to the inventor or 
finder, and are no more his than any other man's. The 
fully moralized or unselfish person will consider them 
the good fortune of all, like soil, water, air and sunshine. 

''How if the inventor, the thinker, the student, spends 
years of his time to bring out what he believes will be a 
thing of use and beauty, yet fails, and finds his effort 



288 NATURAL AND 

wasted? Should there not be some extra compensation 
for success to make up for loss of time and effort in 
failure ? '"' Ah ! in this new mode of life there will be so 
little occasion for failure that it need not be taken into 
account. In the first place, no one will consider that 
he has a right to waste his time and labor; it is all 
consecrated to the useful service of humanity ; and 
he thinks of this before he begins upon, any doubtful 
project. Secondly, he is open to criticism and sug- 
gestion ; he will have no selfish pride to stand in the 
way, no selfish interest to demand privacy ; he will avail 
himself of all the counsel offered, or that can be obtained 
by the asking. With all this prudence and this help he 
cannot seriously fail or waste his time. 

But now let this be observed, that if one has talent 
for discovery, invention, thought, or artistic production, 
and there is any surplus wealth in the com.munity, that 
wealth, instead of being wasted on stately houses, ex- 
travagant living, and ostentatious luxury, will be placed 
at his service to enable him to develop or produce what 
he could not without it. All the obscure genius, which 
the present selfish regime allows to fret itself away in 
helpless poverty, will then come to the surface, will 
have its chance, and achieve its higfhest possibilities, 
where all alike, without envy or jealousy, will rejoice in 
the accomplishment, and in the common benefit that is 
to result. 

In a word, in this ideal condition the reign of Natural 
Selection will be over. It will have ceased to operate 
toward the extinction, the injury, or the depression of 
any person ; for, the less fortunate individual being 
found capable and worthy of equality, every one assists 
in bringing him up into line with the best ; and whatever 
social selection there is acts only for the benefit of all, 
in the way that has been explained. 

**Yes, and in your community all the invalids, pau- 



SOCIAL SELECTION 289 

pers, drunkards, drones, imbeciles and idiots will be as. 
well off as the very best and wisest," some one in his 
haste may wish to reply. But in fact, none of these 
except invalids, and the poor who have become such by 
undeserved misfortune, can possibly get into such a 
society, for lack of intellect and character. Every one 
able to work will find his or her opportunity. And in- 
valids, after the present generation of them have had 
their natural chance to get well or die, will not be found 
there any longer. The people of that society will know 
the causes of invalidism, and will be both wise and un- 
selfish enough not to become invalids, or bring into the 
world feeble and sickly children. No one will be com- 
pelled to injure himself by overwork in order to sup- 
port a family, nor to expose himself to danger from 
cold, heat, or accident. Unavoidable accidents there 
will be, but those that come through carelessness or 
indifference, that is, three-fourths of all we now have, 
will be escaped. Invalids, under the new moral and 
social influences here contemplated, will become well 
and strong, who otherwise would never be anything but 
a burden to their friends. New views, new feelings, new 
occupations, new prospects, new aspirations, change 
and variety, better environment, and a new spirit such 
as the race has never fully known, surrounding, per- 
meating and inspiring all, — these will together con- 
stitute a condition and means of health, the happy 
influence of which cannot previously be estimated. No- 
depressing ennui will be there, no repression of worthy 
ambitions, no aristocratic idleness, no general debility 
for want of useful work, no nervous weakness from ex- 
cessive pleasure or suffering, no anxiety concerning hard 
times, no sadness from overwrought sympathy, no per- 
petual irritation and complaint. On the contrary, the 
nervous force now wasted by these various forms of 
misery will be converted into happiness, and overflow ia 



290 NATURAL AND 

good spirits, in gentle sport, and quie-t joy, subdued 
only by the knowledge of misery existing in the world 
outside their own. 

No, you may depend upon it there will not long be any 
sickly, or poor, or unhappy people there. The complete 
enlightenment and moralization of the individual spirit 
will regenerate the physical body, along with making a 
material paradise in which to live. All that is needed is 
the intelligence to see the way, and the moral determina- 
tion to follow it, that leads into this new Eden of the 
future. 

It may be well to add the caution, always to be re- 
membered, that nothing can be absolutely perfect, and 
therefore some imperfection will exist in the perfect so- 
ciety. But the difference between that state of things and 
the present is so great that I feel justified in making the 
statement of it strong. The sharp contrasts of the new 
and the old, taken with this caution, ought not to convey 
any wrong impression. 

Is there any one in the present, competitive society so 
rich in true felicity, as the poorest of those here described.? 
No, verily. There is no man so rich as he who shall feel 
in every fibre of his being that he has a real and actual 
brotherhood in all the humanity around him — an eternal 
claim to their sympathy and aid that can never be dis- 
honored. No insurance can render him so safe from pov- 
erty and want. No safe-deposit vault can keep his 
treasures so securely as the enlightened human con- 
science can keep its sense of duty to him. There is no 
government or police so strong to protect him as the al- 
mighty truth that all men are by nature entitled to equal- 
ity in the means of happiness. There is something too 
valuable for any money to buy, something too high for 
any selfish ambition to reach; it is the sincere respect, 
the pure good wall, the affection, the deep, reverent love 



SOCIAL SELECTION 29I 

of his fellow beings, and even of the happy dumb ani- 
mals about him, — a wealth far too precious to be ade- 
quately described in words, but which the occupants of 
this, new world will possess, and with it will be able to 
look with calm contempt upon all the money and the en- 
joyments the pampered millionaire can boast. 




CHAPTER XIII. 

LOVE. 



**T OVE is life," say a certain class of romantic per- 

J y sons, "Love and life are one; the same child 

of the one parent source whence emanates all good. 
All that love produces or effects is good, and good only, 
tending tovv^ard happiness and life." 

''Love is death," say certain other persons; very un- 
romantic people these, medical men and scientists. Love 
to them means reproduction of the species ; and study- 
ing the facts connected with it they discover that repro- 
duction uses up the vital force of the organism and 
tends toward death. They observe in some of the low- 
est forms of animal life how the mature creature de- 
velops itself into a mass of reproductive cells, and 
then, bursting the outside skin that remains to it, lets 
loose a multitude of progeny by its own destruction. 
They notice certain species of insects which live but a 
day or a few days after their maturity, in which time 
they do their work toward continuing their kind and 
then die. They see that fish, after their breeding season, 
have become w^eak and poor. They know by a thous- 
and facts in human life as well as animal, facts familiar 
to medical men especially, that exercise of the genera- 
tive function reduces the natural fund of vitality. The 
idea, in fact, seems so well established that certain 
thinkers, who speculate upon the possible continuation 



LOVE 293 

of human life beyond any limit hitherto reached, count 
on the absence of this function as one of the necessary 
conditions. 

Here, then, we have two sets of notions regarding 
love, that are as completely opposite as can be. Must 
one of them be discarded as false ; or is there some way 
in which both may be true? I shall try to show how, in 
spite of all appearances, they can be harmonized. 

In the first place we must examine closely into the 
nature of love, in all its manifestations and qualities, 
from lowest to highest. Physiologists tell us that all its 
various forms spring out of, or are dependent upon, a 
class of organs possessed by all the higher animals and 
man, whose primary function is the continuation of the 
race or species. If this organism be taken away or 
mutilated, while a creature is young, all the feelings and 
desires called love fail to manifest themselves, or if at all 
only in the mere rudiments of their natural strength. 
Not only physical qualities, but grace, beauty, manliness 
and womanliness of character, are in such case unable to 
appear. 

All this is strictly true, and yet the difference between 
the love of the mere animal, and that of the highest hu- 
rnan being, is so great that all comparison of human love 
with animal, or reasoning from one to the other, becomes 
a means of delusion. I venture to assert that there is as 
much difference between the mere physical love impulse 
of the animal, and the love of a highly developed human 
being, as there is between the brain of the animal and 
that of the well-developed man ; or between the animal 
and human intelligence, or the animal and human char- 
acter. We have been able to find an immense difference 
in all the animal and human qualities except love ; and 
now we are about to find that in regard to love also the 
animal and human are very much unlike. 



294 LOVE 

The love of the low, coarse and undeveloped man may- 
be but little if any superior to that of the brute. But 
that of the civilized and cultivated human is very far 
superior. Instead of being a mere reckless impulse, 
bent only on its own satisfaction, it comes to spread its 
influence over the whole mind, and to be qualified in 
turn by its connection with every other feeling. The 
regard for children, home, and friends are most closely 
associated with it ; the ambitions and hopes depend 
upon its fruition ; the spiritual sympathies of religion 
become involved; and finally the intellectual tendencies 
and aims come to be interested in the one great complex 
passion. The whole man or woman may be so com- 
pletely absorbed in it that when it is disappointed 
and broken up the person becomes temporarily, if not 
permanently, a shattered and helpless wreck. 

It not only associates itself with all the other feelings, 
but it enlivens, expands, and glorifies them ; at the same 
time becoming itself glorified, exalted, refined, romantic, 
eloquent, poetic, and tender ; making a charmed atmos- 
phere around its object, delusively elevating it to an 
undeserved height, and worshipping it with a true devo- 
tion. This is what love may be in the better part of our 
species ; and to compare it with that of the animal, 
either the animal brute or the animal man, is mon- 
strously unreasonable and unjust. Thinkers who have 
a purpose in so doing can discover in the human mind 
or soul an immense advance beyond that of the brute ; 
and can draw from it inferences which make man the 
special favorite of his Creator, and endow him with 
immortality. But the same superiority belongs to all 
the faculties of the human, and is as true of his construc- 
tive and destructive powers, his ambitious feelings and 
artistic capacities, as of his thought and his religious 
emotions. His loves are of the same superior character, 
that is, in the superior individual. The animal man. 



LOVE 295 

and the inferior races of the human family, know only 
the physical. The highest know all of the high motives, 
delicate sensibilities, and enthusiasm of energy that have 
been indicated. The animal, or the low-grade human 
being, has only one way of manifesting the passion ; 
the high-grade man or woman has a thousand. Let this 
distinction between lowest and highest forms, or inferior 
and superior qualities of love, be remembered ; for it is 
one that has never before been insisted upon, and will 
prove to have important consequences. 

How much of this love is selfish, and how much un- 
selfish.? is the next point; and in order to decide this it is 
necessary to show plainly what is the true interior nature 
of love itself. It is one of those things of which poets 
and romancers assert that nothing can be known, a^nd of 
which books and teachers give no explanation. 

A great part of the legitimate activity of a civilized com- 
munity is described in the word exchange, — exchange of 
commodities and exchange of services. The merchant, 
manufacturer, farmer, miner, hunter, and fisherman ex- 
change the products of their labor for the products of 
other men's labor, or for the money that represents them. 
Others exchange their labor only. The teacher, lawyer, 
clergyman, physician, give mental labor, or the results of 
it, for the proceeds of physical labor, — a spiritual or men- 
tal product for a material one. Each gets as much as he 
can for what he gives, and the more he obtains the better 
he enjoys the exchange. One party may thus be very 
much pleased while the other is v^ry dissatisfied. But 
when the exchange is pretty nearly equal, the buyer ob- 
taining what satisfies him, and the seller making a profit, 
there naturally springs up a friendliness of feeling which 
brings the same parties together again, when there is an- 
other occasion for trade. On the contrary, when the 
trade is unequal there is dislike or hatred by the victim- 



296 LOVE 

ized party, however much the other may be satisfied, and 
may try to convince the first that there is no wrong. The 
^vrong is proved by continued dissatisfaction ; and we see 
that satisfaction or discontent, friendship or dislike, at- 
traction or repulsion, depends on the justice or injustice 
of the exchange. 

Take notice still further how the same law holds good.* 
The clergyman or teacher may be well satisfied with 
the salary he obtains for his labor, and be well disposed 
toward all the members of his church or his class. But 
to those who give him special attention, who admire his 
ideas or his oratory, the preacher pays special attention 
in return, conversing with them freely, and manifesting 
for them an exceptional interest. They give to him 
appreciation and praise ; he is disposed to give them 
more freely of the same attractive qualities, or it may be 
of others. When one brings you a present of something 
nice, at a time you need it, and you have an opportunity 
to return something good, you are not particular if you 
give a little more than you received. Then if he makes 
another present it is likely to be larger than yours, and 
so on for an indefinite time. It is the same with this 
clergyman and his admirers, only the things they give 
are spiritual, instead of material, and are not always the 
same. But each gives something the other wants, and 
they are not displeased if they give somewhat more than 
they receive. One thing or quality may be given for 
the same or for something different ; and so the spiritual 
exchanges may run into the material ones and vice 
versa, from one party or both, thus becoming very much 
mixed, till one admirer may present the clergyman his 
only daughter, and another one a house and lot, along 
with their mutual admiration. The whole of this spirit- 
ual and material exchange is summed up in the word 
friendship. 

The teacher, too, finds that some of his pupils have 



LOVE 297 

unusual appreciation for what he takes pleasure in im- 
parting, and the better it is appreciated and learned the 
more he takes pains to give. Their admiration is an 
acknowledgment of his superior advancement or talent, 
which pleases him, and he makes return for it in extra 
attention. Both parties give and receive various other 
little attentions and favors that are pleasant ; and this 
spiritual barter of thought and good feeling may come to 
include physical things, or any kind of service, and 
terminate in an exchange of presents. The whole of it 
is nothing but the mutual friendship of the teacher and 
scholars. 

In the family it is the same. Here all the parties are 
engaged in exchanging a great variety of services, with 
the result that every one is made happier. This also — 
the family affection — is but another form of friendship. 
Or if any one chooses to say their exchange of service 
and of spiritual good is not friendship but the operation 
of friendship," that makes no difference; friendship is 
both the desire to do it, and the satisfaction of having it 
done, with the intermediate action of doing. 

In each case the exchange of goods and services runs 
from one kind into another, each leading to something 
else, without limit; just as two boys may begin by 
swapping pocket knives, and end by giving real estate 
for moonshiny railroad bonds, or helping one another 
get elected to Congress. 

It is well also to observe that when the parties are 
disposed to give more than they get the friendship is 
increasing m intensity ; when they give less it is decreas- 
ing; and on the whole the values given and received are 
about equal. After they begin to be unequal they will 
not long continue. 

Now, all this mutual transfer of good and pleasant 
things, in the family, the church, the school, and the 
market, which is called friendship or love indifferently, — 



298 LOVE 

is it in character unlike the love between the sexes? or 
is it substantially the same, differing a little only in the 
character of the thing exchanged? 

In answering let us take notice that the whole of this 
barter of material and spiritual goods is accompanied, 
more or less, by an exchange of what is commonly 
called the personal magnelism, — something impercepti- 
ble to the eye or ear, but plainly enough perceptible to 
the touch. When we see two school-girls going along 
witn their arms about each other, we know they are 
conscious of something pleasant to the touch, and pleas- 
ant even from near proximity. When we see two old 
friends with their four hands tightly clasped, while they 
gaze in each other's faces, we may be sure they are 
conscious of something pleasant to the touch, that is 
passing between them. It is the same when the child 
nestles close to the parent breast, when the cat and dog 
hold up their heads for the friendly stroke, when all 
animals manifest gladness at the kindly touch' of a loving^ 
hand. It is what every one is familiar with, though few 
know how it is to be explained. The noteworthy fact 
is that it is not limited to persons of opposite sex, being- 
common to friends and lovers, parents and children, pet 
animals and men, and even animals between themselves. 

On the principle that the merchant becomes friendly 
with his customers, all those who exchange material or 
spiritual goods tend to become friendly, and to make 
mutual transfers of this personal magnetism. One sort 
of exchange leads to another. Not that the personal 
exchange depends on that of other things ; for love, of 
one kind or another, may appear when two persons see 
each other for the first time ; and then, conversely, this 
may lead to physical or mental transfers. In this re- 
spect the personal exchange is like all the rest. It differs 
only in what is exchanged; and this is the finest force, 
the choicest product of the human organism, a some- 



LOVE 299 

thing- no money, no labor, no sacrifice can buy, except 
to a very limited extent. It passes most freely when 
the return is of the same nature ; yet this too must be 
adapted to the recipient's wants, else there is no ex- 
change, — only a one-sided transaction, an offer not 
accepted. 

Like some other forces, the personal magnetism 
possesses an attractive and a repulsive character or 
manifestation. 

Between persons of opposite sex there is opportunity 
for a more extensive exchange of spiritual qualities, and 
of personal magnetism, than between persons of the 
same sex ; because there are more unlikenesses of char- 
acter; there is greater difference between male and 
female than between male and male or female and 
female. The greater the number of these unlikenesses 
the greater number of exchangeable thnigs they possess 
(mental qualities and unlike services) and therefore the 
more intense the consciousness of the personal magnetic 
force exchanged with them. Not only is there more of 
it, but the magnetism itself, partaking of the quality of 
the individual and of the sex, is more unlike than in 
persons of the same sex ; hence it is more needed and 
more strongly desired, — withm certain limits of practical 
assimilation. When it is remembered that the sexes are 
as different in mental characteristics as in physical, the 
correctness of these statements will be readily apparent. 

Attractive, that is, excellent, physical and mental 
qualities render the personal magnetism generally attrac- 
tive ; repulsive qualities make it repulsive ; for it seems 
to take on and represent the whole nature of the individ- 
ual, and is good, bad or indifferent accordingly; though 
the infinity of variations m persons makes that which is 
attractive to one indifferent or unpleasant to another in 
special cases. 



300 LOVE 

We see then, that the manner in which love between 
the sexes differs from friendship, or from filial, parental, 
or fraternal love, is in its being richer in quality, from 
greater unlikeness, and larger in quantity from greater 
capacity for exchange ; the desire for this and enjoy- 
ment of it being what constitutes love. 

Knowing now what love is, and having such a com- 
plete analogy to reason by, we can tell when it is selfish 
or unselfish, and shall have an explanation of some 
strange exhibitions of it that appear about us every day. 
Much of it is called unselfish when in reality it is as self- 
ish as anything possibly can be. In fact it is rarely 
otherwise than selfish. The test of unselfishness is not 
love at all, but duty. An unselfish love can be willing to \ 
give up its claim on the loved one, for the sake of duty, 
right, justice, the welfare of that one or of others. As 
long as it claims the love of some person as a reward for 
devotion — for so-called unselfish acts or self-denial — so 
long it is selfish only, enduring and sufi"ering for its own 
sake, or doing so for another's happiness only because 
that is the way to obtain the love desired. We reason 
so unconsciously it seems instinctive, that in order to ob- 
tain the love of some individual we must do something 
to make that person happier; therefore we plan and 
labor, suffer and forbear, risk life, perhaps, in some des- 
perate undertaking to gain or keep that love. Yet in all 
this there is nothing unselfish. Any wild animal will do 
the same. "But suppose a man not only risks, but de- 
liberately sacrifices his life for the woman he loves, — is 
not this unselfish .? " Hardly. The consciousness of hav- 
ing her gratitude, her admiration, is a partial reward for 
his love and his efforts. That may be something so 
sweet to him that, in the absence of it from any other 
quarter, he will take all risks, and be reconciled to die if 
necessary. When, on the contrary, he thinks of her hap- 



LOVE 301 

piness equally with his own, and for her sake gives her 
up to another, taking her admiration of his generosity 
only as a part of that which comes to him from all who 
know his course, then he is truly unselfish. But shall we 
call it unselfish love, or rather, unselfish duty and 
generosity ? 

"How is it with the mother whose love follows her 
wayward boy, in the fond hope of doing something to 
make him happier, or to recover his love for herself? 
Is not this unselfish?'"' If her predominant purpose is to 
make him happier by making him better, then her love 
is unselfish, that* is, controlled by an unselfish motive. 
But if her object is to regain an affection for herself, 
then her love is just as selfish as any other person's, no 
matter what she may do. The test of a mother's un- 
selfishness is her willingness to give up her children for 
their own welfare or happiness. 

So with the sister's and the brother's love. It is not how 
much they may love when everything is in accordance 
with their wishes, that shows their unselfishness ; but 
how much they can surrender their love, or their pride, 
or it may be, their property, when the happiness of the 
loved one requires a course to be taken which they do 
not like. This brings out the true character of the 
person, and the love, so plainly there need be no mis- 
take. "'I'he loved one's action may be unwise," you 
will say, *^*and it is this fact, not selfishness, that causes 
disagreement and opposition in such a case." But please 
remember that it is just as selfish to assume one's own 
superiority of judgment or purpose as to do any other 
selfish thing. The unselfish person is the one who can 
willingly admit that another's judgment or motive may 
be as good as his own, and probably is so. Only with 
this willingness can one be just. It is not always one 
can decide what is right or best for another, even when 
it seems so plain. 



302 LOVE 

"When, however, the poor heartbroken wife clings to 
her drunken, disgraced and brutal husband, spite of all 
the misery he compels her to suffer, — then surely," you 
will assert, "it is an unselfish love that is thus mani- 
fested." No, it is not certain to be such, even in a case 
like this. The poor woman may have no ability to 
make herself useful, and obtain a livelihood, except by 
keeping house for this poor wretch of a husband ; and 
no prospect of any sort of love from any one else. 
While her course may be one of pure self-abnegation, it 
is more likely she is doing the only thing possible for 
herself. 

Test all the ordinary love of the sexes by the same 
rule, and we readily see that it contains very little of 
true unselfish feeling. Occasional instances may show 
it, as when a woman marries a man deformed by acci- 
dent, after engaging him in a sound condition, or when 
a man proves faithful to a wife who becomes unfortu- 
nate. But even in some of these cases the motives are 
mixed, and in great preponderance this kind of love is 
like all the rest. "When a man commits suicide be- 
cause he is rejected does that indicate unselfishness.?" 
Not at all ; the unselfishness would be on the part of the 
woman who should marry him to prevent his doing so. 
It is altogether probable that he loved one superior in 
development to himself — that he possessed too little of 
the higher mental and physical qualities to pay for the 
love he desired to obtain. Those he did possess were 
not of the kind that could make her happy ; therefore not 
such as could win her affections. Though her qualities 
^render her attractive to him, his are repulsive or in- 
different to her, and there is little exchange or none. 
He might as well have offered to exchange copper for 
gold, or a pound of lead for a pound of silver, with a 
banker ; and to blow his brains out when the exchange 
is declined would be no more wise or unselfish in one 
case than in the other. 



LOVE 303 

Or suppose, instead of a difference in degree of devel- 
opment, it is development of a different kind on the same 
plane, that separates the parties ; still it is like one man's 
offering another a bushel of apples for a bushel of pota- 
toes, when the other wants nothing but onions. The one 
who offers and the one who declines. are equally selfish in 
what they do ; but neither thinks of making any com- 
plaint, or of bemg seriously disappointed ; nor would 
anything of that kind occur in the other matter if the na- 
ture of the love exchange were equally well understood. 
Indeed, it would not then be desired; for every one 
would know it could give no permanent satisfaction. 

With the woman who breaks her heart under similar 
circumstances the case is the same. There is no unself- 
ishness ; on the contrary, the man or woman who loves 
most, and is most disappointed, is, unknowingly, selfish 
to an extreme degree, in desiring such an unequal 
exchange. The unfortunate person makes a terrible mis- 
take, — a mistake deserving the utmost pity and gentle- 
ness of treatment ; but we cannot truly give it any better 
name. 

There is yet another species of love, which passes for 
a worthy feelmg, but really is not ; it is the mere cling- 
ing dependence of the weak upon one who is stronger. 
It is not the natural preference of the physically weak 
woman for the strong man; but that of a childish and 
indolent helplessness, which clings and exacts, but 
gives nothing in return, — an over-prolonged babyish- 
ness, which maturity of years does not outgrow. It 
may fasten on an unworthy object, just as a little child 
chngs to a brutal father ; but is selfish only, and cannot 
be otherwise till the immature character is outgrown. 

Those who may wish to criticise the theory of love 
that has here been announced Avill say that love gener- 
ates or inspires love, when first offered, and even after 
one of the parties has at first repulsed it. This is quite 



304 LOVE 

true, except in those cases when one can too plainly see 
in the other the evidence of disagreeable qualities. So 
parties who have goods to exchange in trade are, as a 
general fact, glad to meet, and to compare the offered 
stocks, and disposed to be friendly, till one finds that 
the other has nothing that he wants ; after which the 
disposition to be friendly, unless there is some addi- 
tional cause for it, soon disappears. He may discover 
this very quickly, or be some time in doing so. If at 
first he thinks there is nothing desirable, but is after- 
ward convinced by the other that there is, he is like the 
w^oman who is finally persuaded to love the man she at 
first dislikes, or like persons of the same sex affected in 
the same manner. But if the trading man finds himself 
deceived in the value of the thing for which he has given 
a genuine good article, he is then in the position of the 
dissatisfied lover or friend ; and the analogy, or what- 
ever the likeness may be called, of love to other ex- 
change still holds good. 

Now that we know the nature of love, and are also 
able to see what its moral quality is, let us next inquire 
into its purpose. All our old teachers, the priests and 
moralists, have taught us that its only natural purpose is 
the reproduction of the race. All other use for it has 
been considered base and vile, either openly or by im- 
plication. Although in later times some have claimed 
marriage to be a divine institution, it was so only for 
the sake of the family, and because unregulated love was 
degrading. Even reformers of the present century have 
taken the same ground, and earnestly contended that no 
other use than reproduction should be allowed to it. 
The scientists have been scarcely wiser, with few excep- 
tions, chiefly in the medical profession. 

The race itself being generally low, this view did not 
of course make love appear noble. It had always been 



LOVE 305 

mainly that of the animal, and experience did not give 
the teachers any higher light. All the great religions orig- 
inated in Asia, where from time immemorial woman 
has never been considered anything but a slave, and a 
minister to man's sensuality ; hence it was but natural 
these religions, and their adherents, should assume love 
to be as base by nature as it was in actual practice. One 
of these religions, by a strange inconsistency, offers a 
sensu'al paradise as a reward to the faithful ; but all the 
rest banish love as a vile thing, belonging only to the 
earth and the condition of evil. And so their prophets 
and priests, their monks, nuns, ascetics and saints, all 
holy men and women, all indeed who have endeavored 
to reach the purity of the spiritual life, have taught the 
impurity and meanness of love, from the earliest times 
to the present day. From the whole long line only 
one prominent exception stands out; that one Emanuel^ 
Swedenborg, who honored himself and his doctrines by 
asserting the intention of love and marriage to be the 
creation on earth of a race of angels, to form the heavenly 
societies of the spiritual world ; and who glorified it still 
further by affirming a more unselfish type of love to be 
the central delight of the joys of heaven, the first and 
greatest source of happiness to all eternity. Leaving out 
his influence, which is yet small, that of all other relig- 
ionists has been toward making love base, and keeping it 
so. And they have succeeded. All the manners and 
customs, the literature and conversation, of our own 
time, attest how thoroughly the common mind is satu- 
rated with the notion that love is something mean. The 
talk to little girls and boys, the joking practiced on lovers, 
the ostentatious celebration of weddings by the rich, the 
coarse merrymaking on sudh occasions by the poor, 
the obscene jests and stories current everywhere, the 
commonness made of the whole matter, the profane 
treatment of everything belonging to it, — all show how 



306 LOVE 

lightly it is regarded. The carelessness of most women, 
and of nearly all men, about preserving their natural 
beauty, the red arms and hands of the housewife and 
kitchen girl, the sunburnt face of the farmer, the grimi- 
ness, dirt, coarse dress, and slovenly bearing of mechan- 
ics, operatives and laborers, the stooping shoulders and 
ungraceful carriage, — all this has the same significance. 
It means that love is a fraud, a thing of no account, a 
dream of happiness for a few weeks or months, and after- 
ward too low and contemptible for any thought or care 
about preserving the physical beauty, or spiritual graces, 
by which it is gained. 

In a different direction, the shame with which the 
young girl, and the older prude, treat everything that 
hints of physical love is but another witness, telling how 
the indelicacy and brutality of their ancestors degraded 
this passion and made it shameful. 

Still another evidence of the same great fact is the 
sentiment against divorce, in the Roman church, and the 
more conservative portion of the Protestant. Love is 
considered a feeling of such inferior character that its 
existence or non-existence between the married parties 
is a small matter. They may hate and torment each 
other during their whole lives ; but that is not taken as a 
good reason for divorce. The external marriage of the 
church and the law is held a far more sacred thing than 
the happiness of the married couple. Unregulated love 
has its evils, and if these can be avoided by a legalized 
union, love itself may be crushed out entirely, or re- 
placed by hatred, wrangling, and strife ; yet the church 
looks on with entire indifference ; it is concerned only 
when the suffering couples tear themselves apart. Love, 
in its view, is too much tainted by original sin to be 
worthy of any serious effort for its preservation. With 
the individual also, the viler he believes the passion to be 



LOVE 307 

the more unsparingly he will condemn any variation 
from the indissoluble marriage of the church. 

But why has love been always base and profane? 
Because, like all other motives of the unprogressed man, 
it has been selfish. Why has it been a source of dis- 
comfort, misery, crime, disease and death? Because it 
has been morally unprincipled. Why has it been looked 
upon as merely animal, having no decent use but re- 
production ? Because man has been ignorant and un- 
spiritual, having his childish eyes so fixed upon the 
sensual that he could see nothing else. He is now 
beginning to reach his mental maturity, and will soon 
discover not only that love has a purpose of infinite 
importance in reproduction, as taught by Swedenborg, 
namely, the generation of a race capable of regeneration 
into the perfect or angelic society, but also that it has 
other purposes, and that by becoming unselfish all its 
immense power, so long operating to cause misery and 
death, can be converted into a grand primary source of 
happiness and life. Then aU the old notions and feel- 
ings regarding it will be changed. A revolution, greater 
than has ever occurred in religious or political ideas, will 
banish obscenity and shame and sexual profanity, and 
niake everything belonging to this part of his nature, 
with the one exception of his conscience, his choicest 
and most sacred possession. 

As to the first purpose, as stated above, no words can 
add to the solemnity of its importance, whether the life- 
time of the race extends beyond the present physical 
bounds or not. No nobler function can the human 
organism be made to perform ; no nobler motive to per- 
formance can possibly be imagined. Nothing could be 
better calculated than such a motive to transform into 
decency and honor the ignorant, unprincipled, and vile 
manner in which a large share of humanity is now gen- 



308 LOVE 

erated and born for hell, as truly as if predestined there 
by a malevolent and merciless deity, as once believed. 

But what additional purpose is there to this function, 
already ennobled by such a lofty one as the generation of 
a race having angelic capabilities ? Is it another one 
equally important ? No one can yet say how important it 
is, or may prove to be in the future. It is spoken of only 
as it appears at the nearest view. In a word, it is the 
vitality and health of the nerve system. And though this 
cannot be so fully proved as to make it demonstrable, 
there are indications so many and so plain as to put it 
almost beyond doubt. 

First, the personal magnetism is itself a nerve force. 
It may or may not be the only one ; but it is at least one. 
It radiates from the end of every nerve that comes to the 
skin, and makes itself perceptible to the touch, percepti- 
ble even in the clothing a person wears. It is felt by 
another through the extremities of the nerves in the skin, 
and is absorbed, conveyed, or transmitted inward by a 
movement the reverse of that which carries it out. What 
one gives out 'another absorbs, and this constitutes a 
large part of the exchange which is the satisfaction of 
love. But it may also develop hatred ; that is, when so 
adapted and suitable as to be of use to the receiver it is 
agreeable or attractive, and is called love ; when so un- 
adapted or unsuitable as to be injurious to the recipient it 
is disagreeable or repulsive, and gives rise to hatred. 
The more close and complete the contact of persons the 
more intensely it is enjoyed if agreeable, and the more 
thoroughly disliked if repulsive. That from the unselfish 
person is always pleasant ; that of the selfish is liable to 
be or to become unpleasant or repulsive in various 
degrees under varying circumstances. 

Although a force it thus becomes a food for the nerves 
and brain, supplying them with something of which they 
make constant use, but which possesses some quality 



LOVE 309 

different from that generated within themselves. Every 
person is more or less conscious of needing it, that is, of 
needing the company of the opposite sex, from vi^hom 
it is obtained. Few, perhaps, will admit this in so many 
words, their old ideas of love having made it an impro- 
priety to do so ; the conduct of almost every one will 
prove it nevertheless. Everybody, too, is in some de- 
gree conscious of receiving it ; and some persons have 
professed their consciousness of its reception from par- 
ties at a considerable distance. That it furnishes an 
element which is necessary and healthful, when of the 
right kind, is abundantly proved by the eagerness with 
which every one accepts it, and by the renewed bright- 
ness, cheerfulness, energy and good nature manifested 
afterward, as well as by the dullness, indifference, gloom, 
and irritability of those who are deprived of it. The 
facts of this kind are universal, and well known to all who 
observe closely. Another confirmation of its healthful- 
ness comes from the numerous cures of disease by 
"magnetic healers, " with whom it is an open secret that 
patients of opposite sex to the physician are more easily 
affected than those of the same sex, and respond more 
quickly to its healthful influence. 

Aside from this kind of evidence, familiar to all as soon 
as they take time to think, there is another sort, better 
known to men of science. All the natural secretions of 
the body are, by a happy love, or other happy state of 
mind, rendered pure, sweet, bland, and healthful ; while 
grief, hatred, disappointment, outrage, despair make them 
sour, acrid, bitter, and poisonous. The virus of hydro- 
phobia, and that of syphilis and scrofula may yet be 
found to have this kind of origin. 

In both conditions the secretions are the bearers of a 
magnetism agreeing in character with their ov/n. In their 
pure and wholesome state, as produced by love, certain 
of them are designed or adapted to be absorbed by each 



3IO LOVE 

sex from the other; and then, passing .into the blood, 
they become in a double sense food for the brain and 
nerves, consisting as they do of both force and material 
substance. If the established proprieties of the subject 
did not forbid, in such a place, an argument from anat- 
omy could be brought, which would furnish a strong 
support to this position. But without aid from anatomy 
the general position that love feeds, supports, gives 
life, health, and strength to the nervous system, has 
abundant proof in that negative kind of evidence fur- 
nished by the unwholesome, even deadly, effects of 
unnatural, selfish, and depraved love ; and by the weak, 
shrivelled, distorted mental character of those who 
endure prolonged affectional starvation. For, who are 
those wrecks of men who suffer from general debility in 
middle age, and those hosts of nervous women still 
younger, that are capable only of lingering misery and 
torment, — who are they mostly but the victims of ab- 
normal, selfish, sensual, oppressive, and debasing love, 
either in themselves or their parents .? Does the reader 
think there is some slander in that.'' Possibly there is ; 
but if the medical men, the confessors, the husbands 
and wives would all testify I should have little fear of 
being condemned for the statement. And if an unprin- 
cipled, degrading love can give origin to such a vast 
amount of weakness, disease, misery and death as we 
see around us, and known by the well-informed to be so 
caused, why should not the same mighty influence 
become wholesome and life-giving, in every sense, when 
it is natural, clean, conscientious, unselfish and enno- 
bling.? It does. The man or woman who possesses the 
enjoyment of a true love is not weak, sickly, peevish or 
depraved. He or she knows, as quick as it is men- 
tioned, what is the central source and cause of the 
mental and bodily health enjoyed. And predominantly 
that health is mental. It is brightness, activity, wit, 



LOVE 311 

clearness, sanity, hope, energy, determination — all the 
powers that belong to a healthy brain. 

The persons here referred to are of course those in 
middle life, not the young whose natural fund of nervous 
vitality has never been exhausted. I cannot give illus- 
trations, or make exceptions that may be required, but 
am willing to leave the general statement to the experi- 
ence of all good observers for confirmation. 

There is still another kind of proof worthy of notice in 
regard to the second purpose of love. It has already 
been stated that some of the lowest living things cease 
their existence at the time of reproduction ; and that some 
even as high as insects live but a short space afterward. 
Of many of the higher animals we do not know whether 
they reproduce all their lives or not, and of the domesti- 
cated ones we cannot tell how long they w^ould live after 
ceasing to reproduce if allowed to live. But the human 
female is known to live twenty, thirty, forty or even 
fifty years after childbearing has become impossible. In 
a long life nearly or quite one-half of it belongs to the 
post-reproductive period. Now, in the masculine half of 
humanity we know that neither love nor the power of 
generation ceases at middle age, nor for a long time 
afterward. But if reproduction were the only object of 
love w^hy should not the power of reproduction cease in 
man as soon as it does in woman ? We are aware of no 
such peculiarity in animals ; it is in the human only that 
the male retains this ability long after the female has lost 
it. It scarcely need be said that love endures still longer. 
How is it with the woman, — does love die out in her 
along with the power of childbearing.? It does, and it 
does not. If her experience of it has been with the self- 
ish and base kind, quite likely she is willing to forget that 
she possesses any such faculty. In other cases she has 
been compelled to crush out the feeling as far as possible, 



312 LOVE 

because it could have no satisfaction. But every woman 
who has had a pleasant experience of love, who knows 
that it can be pure and honest and unselfish, — every such 
one, I presume to assert, is capable of love to old age, 
and as long as man. There are numbers of old peopl-e of 
both sexes who are consciously aware of their need of 
love as the one thing which more than all else would 
conserve their waning strength, and enable them to die 
comfortably of old age. Furthermore, it seems to me 
probable, almost certain, that in some few fortunate 
cases love has been an important factor in renewing the 
youth and restoring the special senses of sight and hear- 
ing in such old persons. Everything we know regarding 
the post-reproductive period of life is in harmony with 
the supposition that love has for a secondary purpose the 
support and renewal of nervous vitality ; while without 
such a theory all this class of facts is without explanation. 
In addition to the above might be cited the testimony 
of various medical men, and other parties, to confirm the 
doctrine here put forth. The best confirmation of all, 
however, is the fact that every one is instinctively con- 
scious of needing, desiring, and enjoying love with- 
out any thought of its primary object. Every honest 
man who ever felt the attractiveness of a sweet little ten- 
year-old girl ; every mother who ever discovered that her 
twelve-year-old boy was dearer to her than any of his 
sisters ; knows that love, in civilized people, may get far 
away from its primitive animal character, that it is com- 
forting, delightful, precious, notwithstanding all thought 
of the original motive and object out of which this more 
human love has grown, is entirely put away from the 
mind as impossible. So it is with the little boy who may 
not be more than seven or eight years old when som.e 
stranger little girl child becomes pleasanter to him than 
any other, and far more so than any of his own sex. 
This is the beginning of that romantic feeling which 



LOVE 313 

is the inspiration of so much song, story, and art, 
and which changes the life of every man and woman 
who is touched by its sacred fire. These men, women, 
and children now spoken of are those who have been 
described as well sexed ; that is to say, some fortunate 
and happy experience of love in their parents or pre- 
vious ancestry has so modified the organization they 
inherit that their whole thought and character is changed 
or sexized, so as to render them capable of perceiv- 
ing and appreciating every peculiarity of the opposite 
sex, whether in the mature person or the child ; and 
ready to manifest the proper responsive qualities. This, 
if love were unselfish, would be a very happy organiza- 
tion ; as things are it is liable to make its possessor 
very miserable. But here is a hint which parents, 
if they are wise, may turn to good account. Though 
love cannot have its full satisfaction in a complete ex- 
change of personal influences, it may have it in part. If 
every father had sufficient* of this sexized character to 
bestow on his young daughter some of those little atten- 
tions, sympathies, caressings which she instinctively 
desires from some one, she would not be so ready to 
fall in love with the first young fool or scapegrace who 
should show her any partiality. If every mother would 
treat her growing boy in the same manner he would not 
become a stranger to her and to his sisters, homelessly 
seeking his companionship wherever he can find it, bet- 
ter or worse as may happen, and often bad. Both 
parents would retain an influence over their children, 
which now they lose before the child is fairly in its 
teens. Ah ! how many homes are made dreary or even 
desolate, how many young lives are ruined, by that 
devilish old notion of ignorant piety that love is base 
and shameful, and that all manifestation of anything 
resembling it in the family must be suppressed as silly 
OT wicked. Truly, it has turned the inner sanctuary of 



314 LOVE 

the human heart into a den of wild beasts and creeping- 
things. And though inteUigent people have outgrown 
and escaped it, the masses of men, women and children 
are still affected by its baleful influence; and we see 
its effects about us in homeless families, and read of 
them in all the newspapers, in accounts of elopements, 
divorces, jealousy murders and suicides, and all sorts of 
foolish, desperate, and criminal love-making. 

Love, then, has two main purposes,- — one the giving of 
life to a new generation, the other to give vitality to the 
more highly developed parts of the whole organism. It 
is thus life-giving in a double sense. It is a source of 
life to the child and to its parents — not a necessary dissi- 
pation of the parents' life, like reproduction in the lowest 
animals. The contrast of its effects is as great as the 
difference of development between the lowest animal 
forms and the highest human. This is the great point, 
and it nullifies the validity of all the old notions upon the 
subject. Although the human experience of love has 
been of an ignorant, selfish, and degrading kind, ruinous 
in all its tendencies, yet the effects of a truthful, con- 
scientious, unselfish and intelligent love will be as 
unlike those of the old as heaven is unlike hell. In this 
respect the experience of the past gives no indication of 
the future. This is to have a glory and success equal to 
the failure and disgrace of that. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

LOVE. 

Continued. 



YET a third purpose or end, of the love passion, is 
the reconciliation of the sexes ; a thing much to 
be desired, but which can never be effected so long as 
love is in disgrace, or held in little esteem. Friendship 
can exist only with equality and mutual respect; but as 
long as love is mainly sensual, and woman is looked 
upon as a minister to man's pleasure, with an unfortu- 
nate liability to bear children, so long will men treat her 
with contempt and injustice, all the worse because she is 
so dependent on him for the means of living. But when 
the generation and birth of a child shall come to be viewed 
as unselfish work of the noblest character, and be entered 
upon as a matter of high generosity and duty to a possible 
human being ; when love, along with its beauty and 
charm, shall be seen to have a use of the utmost import- 
ance as a means of health and long-continued life ; then 
woman becomes of equal value with man, her functions 
of equal necessity, her contributions equally precious 
with his. Her industrial dependence will still for the 
present give man the superior power ; but it will be less 
arbitrary and unjust; the equality of sex value will do 
more than any other one thing to secure that peace, re- 



3l6 LOVE 

spect, and mutual sympathy between the sexes which 
ought naturally to exist in abundant measure. 

Some minor results will likewise follow. The sense 
of shame, and the blush which outwardly signifies it, 
will disappear along with the coarse, ignorant sensuality 
from which they were born, when love shall take on its 
unselfish phase. So too will that shameless and profane 
frivolity, which now tells how contemptible a thing love 
is in the estimation of the masses of men and women. 
Delicacy, respect, appreciation, even reverence, will take 
the place of both, as one effect of the new ideas and 
better motives that are to come. Another result will be 
charity in place of the present merciless severity, mani- 
fested by a society having little of the social spirit, 
toward those who break its rules, especially when the 
offenders are women, and incapable of self-defence. 
There are women of highly developed organization, fine 
feelings and good purposes, persons who would save 
the life of the meanest insect under their feet, or risk 
their own to nurse some sufferer back to health, w^ho, 
because they are fine-grained and sensitive, are sus- 
ceptible to every kind of tender sentiment — individuals 
who in an unselfish society would become worthy, 
loved and happy members of it, yet who have been 
tempted or provoked into taking without society's con- 
sent the love they could not otherwise obtain, and then 
have been fairly hounded to their death by the heartless 
persecution of both women and men. Not untruly has 
society been called ** a monster devouring its own chil- 
dren ; " and this is one mode of exhibiting its ferocity. 
Let us believe that when a nobler and wiser society 
makes its appearance, persons capable of so much good- 
ness will be understood as they are, and saved to lives 
of usefulness in spite of their errors or faults. 

'•But is not this a generosity that encourages to evil?" 



LOVE 317 

is the ready objection. Not at all. The kind of people 
referred to are not those whose natural tendency is 
toward evil, but good. If society were half just to them 
they would be quite as just toward others. Society 
deliberately shuts out all unmarried women from love, 
no matter what their character or circumstances may be, 
but allows all men to get it wherever and whenever they 
can, by any means short of the most brutal physical 
force. To suppose such injustice as this to be good for 
society, or that the abolition of it would be bad, seems 
to me the grossest kind of delusion. The method of 
correcting it has been already pointed out, in ChapterXI. 

What will unselfish love do for the married.? is another 
question which many people will wish to have answered. 
Will it make them all contented and happy.? No, it 
cannot make them all happy ; no power in earth or 
heaven could do that. First, because some of them are 
too badly mismated to be otherwise than miserable ; and 
secondly, because many of them have the selfish nature 
too strong relatively to be brought under its influence, 
and such can never be happy very long. But many 
others, those who can surrender to it, would be made 
happier, and enabled to obtain whatever happiness is 
possible to them in their present relations. The amount 
of it they cannot know till unselfish thought and con- 
duct has brought it all out. In some cases there might 
be better results than could previously be hoped for; 
and in every case there could be nothing less than good 
feeling. For no one can avoid giving respect and admi- 
ration to true unselfishness. But it must be true ; there 
must be no fraud about it, conscious or unconscious ; no 
incompleteness in the work of repentance ; no lowering 
of the standard a true unselfishness sets up. This re- 
pentance, like any other, requires a conviction of sin, a 
consciousness of guilt, a sense of the meanness, dishon- 



3l8 LOVE 

esty, tyranny and slavishness of a selfish love, of the 
wrong done, the suffering caused by it, and the justice 
of resistance to its demands. No promise given in igno- 
rance or delusion must be made an excuse ; for no per- 
son can certainly promise love beyond the present; the 
utmost one can say is, "I love you now; if you are 
sincerely conscientious I cannot hate you, whether 
much or little I may love." No honorable man in trade 
would hold another bound to deliver goods promised in 
such entire ignorance of the conditions necessary to their 
production as young people are in when they promise to 
give each other love, an exchange beyond comparison 
in importance. When all demand or claim is given up, 
when nothing is asked but what can be honestly at- 
tracted, won, and paid for by equally attractive qualities 
in the person who seeks, then and then only has either 
party a right to ask forgiveness, to speak of reconcilia- 
tion, or expect any genuine good will. Such a position 
is the only honest, and manly or womanly one that can 
be taken ; and whatever sacrifice of pride or of hope 
it requires must be made. Nothing less than complete 
justice can completely satisfy. Nothing less than perfect 
liberty can take away all fear ; and where there is 
fear of tyranny or selfish exaction true love without 
alloy cannot exist. When fear is gone and freedom takes 
its place, if there are any gems of affection they will 
spring up and grow. No person can withhold respect 
for one who thus proves his or her nobility of spirit; and 
respect is the first stage toward somethmg better. Then 
if no love is asked for but what is for the benefit or 
pleasure of the opposite party as much as for that of the 
one who seeks it, no further injustice will be done; and 
if the parties ever truly loved at all they will be likely to 
find their, love renewed, in a way that will make it a 
permanent thing. If not love there will at least be peace 
and comfort. If such a spirit and purpose could get 



LOVE 319 

into all our discordant homes it would turn very many 
of them into abodes of joy. 

A few additional matters, however, need to be consid- 
ered in order for these reconciled parties to avoid all 
future discord. One of these is politeness. The un- 
selfish spirt is that out of which all sincere polite- 
ness grows ; it possesses it in purpose or intention ; but 
it should be put into form, should be expressed, 
should show itself plainly, not remain to be guessed or 
assumed. 

A more important thing of a similar kind is the right 
of privacy, of seclusion, of separation, whenever desired. 
The habit so many married people have of always occu- 
pying a room together, of always eating at the same 
table, always being tied to ea'ch other's company, is 
enough to destroy the strongest affection that ever 
existed between two persons. They become tired of 
one another inevitably. When charged and surfeited 
with the magnetism from each other's presence they 
cannot avoid being indifferent ; if forced to endure more 
Ihey become repulsive and quarrel ; while every dis- 
agreement, criticism, or impoliteness makes their con- 
dition perpetually worse. For a couple to place them- 
selves in such a situation is as irrational as if they sen- 
tenced themselves to eat one kind of food only, during 
their lives, and to eat of that continually. Under such 
circumstances the wonder is not that marriages are 
unhappy, but that they are endurable at all. Each one 
should have an apartment so strictly private and sacred 
that the other would never think of entering it without 
invitation or permission. This is a simple natural right, 
which nobody should be expected to lose by being 
married. No unselfish person could object to it; and 
without it it is doubtful if even the most self-sacrificing 
spirit can enable the married to escape some friction and 
annoyance. 



320 LOVE 

But assuming that peace and good will, with a certain 
degree of love, are assured to the married parties, and 
they desire to increase that love, then this is to be done 
by an increase of spiritual sympathy. By this I mean 
religious, moral, and intellectual sympathy. Without it 
there can be no very strong love. Every man and 
woman desires a companion that he or she can love 
more supremely than any other one of that sex ; and the 
ideal of their conduct is that neither shall ever willingly 
say or do aught that can give the other pain or regret. 
Such a love and companionship is what most people 
attempt to realize when they marry ; but very few actu- 
ally obtain it. In order to possess it there must be ^ 
unity of religious and philosophical views, an agree- 
ment in motives and purposes, and a simultaneous 
learning with and from each other of all that either one 
may know or learn separately. The last requirement is 
the most important of the three. Those who without 
pride, conceit, or self-righteousness can learn together 
the same truths, can accept candidly from each other 
whatever either one has to impart, thus travelling the 
same intellectual road in close company, will be almost 
sure to realize a sympathy in regard to nearly all the 
great concerns of life. The deepest source of trouble in 
this world is that there is so little honesty, so little 
unselfishness, in people's thinking ; in the marriage 
relation as in all others. Besides, love is that one sub- 
ject of which less is known than of any other; and there 
is less willingness to learn abput it than about anything 
else. The native selfishness of the hum-an heart clings 
so tenaciously to a desirable love once obtained that 
no criticism is allowed, no reasoning submitted to, in 
regard to it, or to the marriage institution ; though the 
latter may be little better than a whited sepulchre. Yet 
love is the very thing a married couple should have the 
same knowledge about, the same aspirations concerning. 



LOVE 321 

the same determination to render as perfect as possible. 
An agreement here is more essential than anywhere 
else ; and a mutual high appreciation of love itself ought 
to be the very first article in the mental sympathy of 
those who love. 

Spiritual love and physical are the two opposite poles, 
or hemispheres rather, of the whole complex thing. 
When it is selfish, a spiritual sympathy having for its 
objects wealth, ambition, popularity, power, is unworthy, 
disappointing, and morally degrading, as truly as a self- 
ish physical animality. It is an ignorant or an unprin- 
cipled selfishness that makes either kind of love unworthy. 
There is no need of disparaging the physical. Body and 
spirit are equally holy or unholy. Unselfish physical 
and spiritual love are both equally pure, equally honor- 
able, equally excellent and happifying. A sensuality 
that is natural and honest, that is enjoyed for its uses, 
that has wise and noble purposes underlying it, is not 
inferior to any spiritual enjoyment. The conscientious 
spirit behind it sanctifies the whole, rendering it pure, 
righteous, wholesome, vitalizing, and morally improving. 
It has been well contended that in a true state of things 
physical love is the natural basis out of which spiritual 
sympathy, and all the higher forms of love and generous 
sentiment, should rise by spontaneous evolution, till the 
very highest was reached. And I have no doubt that 
the reverse process, from the spiritual to the physical, is 
equally effective and equally excellent in both physical 
and mental results. Each kind of love naturally inspires 
the other, and contributes to its development; a most 
appropriate evidence of the nobility of both. 

The prevalent views regarding all these things are so 
egregiously imperfect or unscientific as to be almost 
worthless. Old thinkers and religionists have had their 
eyes so fastened upon a senseless and debauched loYe, 



322 LOVE 

which they found to be demoralizing, that they never 
conceived of it with any better character. Hence they 
gave it a bad name, and shut it out of their heaven. But 
when unselfish love makes its appearance in this world 
both phases of it will possess such a heavenly aspect that 
pious people will be glad to take it into heaven, or to 
stay on earth for its sake ; while all men and women 
will discover that it is the selfish spirit associated with 
love that makes it vile, and that unselfishness renders it 
worthy of an archangel. Nothing impure, unclean, un- 
wholesome, unrefined, or in any sense demoralizing, 
need ever be associated with love, any more than with 
an angel's holiest thought. 

There is yet one other point, however, remaining to 
be discussed* before this whole subject of love can be 
properly and fully understood ; and that is the position 
which men and women as sexes naturally occupy toward 
each other. Are they equals, standing on the same 
level, but doing different work, for different ends.'' Or 
are they superior and inferior, one standing higher in the 
scale of development; and if so v\^hich is the superior.? 
These are questions which cultivated women of our time 
have brought into debate, though formerly women and 
men alike had but one opinion, and that unfavorable to 
women. Without attempting to review the ideas that 
have been put forward, I will here only offer the bare 
outline of a theory, leaving it to prove itself as it may to 
the minds of thoughtful observers. 

This theory arises out of biological facts, and so far as 
I know agrees with all of them that have any bearing. 
It is that the feminine or germ-producing sex is primary, 
and that the male, or one that produces fecundating 
material, is a secondary or later development. Like all 
other later developments, it is a higher or more complete 
development Attention has previously been called to 



LOVE 323 

the fact that the primary, the original, the basic thing 
has a superiority in intrinsic value, as being more indis- 
pensable than that which proceeds or evolves from it ; 
while the secondary or later growth has a superiority of 
rank or quality, in other words, a higher degree of evolu- 
tion. Furthermore, this later and higher evolution of the 
male ts itself what constitutes masculinity. There is noth- 
ing in the differences existing between the sexes but 
what is produced by this more complete evolution; this 
alone is all that is necessary to explain whatever needs 
to be accounted for in their unlike pecularities. 

The facts that sustain these positions may be found in 
the various Biological departments of Genesis, Embryol-, 
ogy and Growth, as exhibited in all forms of life, from 
the lowest to the human. Briefly, it may be said that 
the lowest animal and vegetal forms produce germs ca-. 
pable of such trifling evolution as they possess, without 
the aid of any material from unlike germs, either within 
themselves or in separate individuals ; these last arising 
in higher forms at a later period. Also, that whatever 
renders embryologic development slower and more diffi- 
cult tends to produce the male sex in physique, just as the 
education of hard circumstances, and the slow, persistent 
overcoming of obstacles, generates the heroic character, 
or spiritual masculinity ; and as wrestling with difficult 
intellectual problems develops the mental penetration that 
discovers the secrets of Nature, and exhibits them in new 
inventions and generalizations; this latter faculty being 
manifested, to any considerable extent, only by the male 
human, and being the surest evidence of his superiority^ 
of development. All three of these are essentially the- 
same process, namely, that of development under diffi- 
culties, and by virtue of the stimulation that obstacles 
produce upon the growing physical germ, or upon the 
expanding intellect and character. 

This superiority of development makes man, in a pre- 



324 LOVE 

dominant sense, the teacher and leader of woman, while 
woman's superiority in the primary qualities she has 
retained makes her the conservator, the prudent, careful 
protector of what is already possessed. By natural in- 
stinct she is a timid, blind conservative, merely ; but by 
acquiring the knowledge which man has exploited from 
Nature, she becomes a more far-seeing and efficient pro- 
tector than before. In a subdominant sense she teaches 
man, and renders him more effective in his own mental 
functions. 

On the self-evident principle that woman has a natural 
right to whatever of good man enjoys, man is morally 
bound to elevate woman into his own superior develop- 
ment as completely as possible. This, in short, is the 
duty of the superior to the inferior of his or her own sex, 
or of any race, class, or condition whatever, according 
to the same moral principle that every one is equally 
entitled to happiness so far as one is, or can become, 
capable of enjoying it. The rule applies without limit, 
and is the highest standard of justice. 

Man is thus bound to communicate his knowledge to 
woman, and she in return to accept it and impart to him 
what she has to teach in her own department, which he 
is as much bound to accept, each on the supposition 
that to teach confers happiness on the teacher. The 
reverse proposition should also be true, and learning as 
agreeable as teaching ; but unfortunately the selfish spirit 
seems to stand in the way. 

Comparing this mental proceeding to a physical one 
easily understood, let us suppose a man and woman 
setting out on an excursion toward the top of a high hill 
not too difficult for either of them to climb. The woman 
expects the man, he being the strongest, to find the best 
way, and lead in it, to help her over the difficult places, 
to do whatever requires muscular strength, and to point 
out whatever he finds that is beautiful or interesting, foi 



LOVE 325 

her entertainment. What does he expect of her? To be 
willing to keep in his company, to follow when he finds 
a path, to make some effort herself when he tries to assist, 
her through a hard spot, to show some appreciation of 
the landscapes that come into view, and the small objects 
of beauty or utility, seen as they pass along or gathered 
up for future enjoyment. She contributes to his enter- 
tainment by the conversation that springs as a reaction 
from the appreciation of all these things, and is stimu- 
lated to discover some that he does not. 

This is a not unfair type of the mental progression 
which man and woman together should make ; a com- 
panionship in all learning, all thought, and in the feeling 
and action consequent on learning and thought. The 
direction to be taken, and the end to be sought, must of 
course be agreed upon before they set out. 

The man who is not desirous to take the woman up 
this mental elevation, into his own highest and best 
thought, is not a spiritually masculine man, — his mas- 
culinity is only animal ; and the woman not willing to 
accompany the man up the intellectual heights as far as 
he can aid her to go is yet in spirit only a child, and 
an animal in her femininity. And this mental upgoing 
includes the moral; for notwithstanding her claim, often 
made, of moral superiority, woman is not the moral 
superior of man except in the negative sense, and so far 
as weakness or timidity prevents her being immoral. 
The mind must have intelligence of a high order before 
it can have true morality. 

But suppose the man lies down at the first comfortable 
spot, and refuses to aid the woman, or to go any farther 
on the trip .? Or if he goes must be coaxed or urged to 
make an advance.? Can the woman love or respect 
such a man } 

Or if the woman has to be urged along in spite of indif- 
ference or timidity, and carried wholly by the man's 



326 LOVE 

strength over all the rough and steep places, with no 
interest taken in the pleasant things found on the way ? 
Will not the man lose his respect for woman, or wish he 
had taken some other individual of the sex for his com- 
panion ? Certainly ; both of them will manifest the feel- 
ing so easily seen in ordinary marriage. 

Suppose further, that he is anxious to advance so 
rapidly he does not take time to see all the beautiful 
things, or gather up all the treasures on the route, to be 
carried along. Or if she is so slow that she dallies over 
a thousand little nothings, wasting time that might be 
more usefully spent in going on. Then here is occasion 
for mutual remonstrance, persuasion, and exhortation that 
shall modify the disposition of one or both, and enable 
them to go on together peacefully if not happily. 

Now, the mental excursion, through the fields of science, 
and up the hills of moral difficulty, is substantially the 
same. • The man and woman must keep together, he to 
make easy the path and help her along, she to Jollow and 
keep as near by his side as possible. She is not oy 
nature a thinker, and cannot be to much extent a discov- 
erer of new truth ; but once found she can be enabled to 
understand it, just as the mechanical invention, though 
it can be made only by one in a thousand, can be under- 
stood or learned by all persons of ordinary mind. The 
best female minds are at least capable of following where 
the ablest men may lead. And of the best male minds I 
have no doubt that each one would be glad to communi- 
cate to some woman all he learns, and thus endeavor to 
keep her abreast of himself in his progress. 

But if either one of the parties is unable or unwilling to 
do his or her part toward maintaining an equal pace in 
their mental progression, and sharing in all the difficulties 
and achievements of it, then there is no true marriage 
worthy of the name between them, whatever it may be 
called by such a society as originally made the institution. 



LOVE 327 

Of course, if neither one has arrived to a state of men- 
tal growth where there is desire for such mental ex- 
coursing, it can make little difference who their partners 
are, and they may as well be tied together irrevocably 
in the manner of the Catholic church. 

As a slight digression it may be added, that conserva- 
tism being a womanly sentiment, much of the general 
idea here expressed has its application to Conservatism 
and Radicalism. The Conservatism that acknowledges 
progress, but seeks to preserve w^hatever of good can be 
carried along, or with Wise prudence aims to make 
progress safe, sure, and solid as it goes on, should not 
need to have any quarrel with Radicalism ; for Radical- 
ism needs all its aid, and should court its good will. The 
mere miserly instinct that clings to everything, good, bad 
or indifferent, and the lazy inertness, or blind timidity, 
that refuses to move in any direction — these will not 
wed with Radicalism, or have any joy in its company. 
Neither will a radicalism that is reckless and bigoted 
have any influence with Conservatism. The two parties 
are as sadly at variance as the generality of men and 
women. They are opposites that should be counter- 
parts instead of antagonists. And as the germ of pro- 
gressiveness exists in all persons, the more masculine 
element should not refuse all effort to stimulate this kind 
of life into activity, in even the most inert. When Radi- 
calism, knowing its own position, shall approach Con- 
servatism in the same mental tone with which man 
approaches the merely passive or indifferent woman, 
some good not now anticipated may be the result. 

"But we are afraid, notwithstanding, that your doc- 
trine will tend to destroy marriage, scatter families, and 
overturn all domestic arrangements," — the timid ones 
will still object. Yet it is self-evident that to teach jus- 
tice will not make conditions worse, but better, to all 



328 LOVE 

who accept it. Even if there be danger, let us see what 
this instituion is that some people consider so sacred 
no word can be allowed against it. Here is what is 
w^ritten concerning it by a man well in years, whose 
profession as a clergyman, and his acquaintance with 
new social experiments, gave him unusual opportunities 
for observation and correct judgment. 

"The most stringent, vigorous and durable of social 
institutions depends for its stability on a love which is 
a mere ephemerality. The tyrannous attraction that 
draws natural couples together is usually the beginning 
of a long enforced captivity. In the majority of instan- 
ces the decease of one of the parties is soon felt by the 
other as a reHef. 

"The natural man is tyrannical, the natural woman 
capricious and exacting. Union after a time results in 
coldness, and with coldness, and knowledge of each 
other's infelicities, passional attraction is succeeded by 
indifference. The relation is maintained afterward by 
external considerations and stringencies, by law, by 
custom, by the church, by material interests, and by the 
family circle. 

"Natural marriage is not an inter-freedom, but an 
inter-slavery. It is not to be criticised on solely natural 
grounds ; for it is the best and highest institution possi- 
ble for the mere sexual creature, framed in selfishness 
and obsequious to animal desire. Yet when stripped of 
its fine illusions it is commonly an ignoble fraud. 

"The natural man is educated by a succession of illu- 
sions. * * Married partners with the advance of life 
generally discover that each possesses a private individ- 
uality in which the other does not share. When this 
revelation is opened there is an interior divorce. * * 
Then begins the solitude, then the experiences of a hid- 
den life. * * In almost every case, by the very force 
of their latent virtuousness, the millions of married asso- 
ciates press apart from each other. Where there is no 
essential fitness there is no permanency of relation. 
Natural marriage begins by attraction, but is maintained 
by cocercion. The result of all this wedlock of unfit- 
ne^is is that men and women drag out existence in the 
m'dst of perpetual tortures." — T. L. Harris. 



LOVE 329 

So far as I am able to judge, this statement is correct. 
'Of such unions as I have had opportunity to observe, 
very few appeared to be really happy — less than a dozen 
in all. How could it be otherwise ? Society, in its policy 
regarding love, is almost wholly selfish, caring little ex- 
cept to make sure that children shall be supported by the 
parents. The young are left to grow up in ignorance, and 
in vice if it so happens. The unmarried are forced to 
steal or starve ; the married, except in a few extreme 
cases, are bound together for life, whether happy or 
miserable. Christian legislators follow Jesus or St. Paul, 
neither one of whom, probably, knew more than his con- 
temporaries about love. The medical profession has been 
scarcely wiser than the priestly and the legal; all blind 
leaders of the blind, having learned nothing for a thou- 
sand years. No wonder the general result is misery, with 
frequent occasional ones of seduction, rape, jealousy, 
murder and suicide. 

Will a little new truth be likely to make such a condi- 
tion of things worse ? It is hardly possible. Like that of 
an old sore, the sensitiveness of the institution to being 
touched is a symptom of the corruption within ; which 
can be let out only by the keen lance of critical thought. 
Marriage, like every other human arrangement, must 
submit to criticism finally, and the sooner the better. 
As for the married themselves, their only true and honest 
course is to reconcile the past if possible, and begin 
anew with higher views and purposes. It is the selfish 
spirit, principally, that has made them miserable ; it is 
the unselfish that is to make them happy. 

In the Kingdom of the Unselfish there will be no heart- 
burning, no jealousy, no sense of wrong from unrequited 
love, no seduction, no adultery, no affectional starvation. 
No one will attempt to deprive another of his or her hap- 
piness ; no one will claim any love that he or she cannot 



330 



LOVE 



attract and keep by his or her own worthiness. Parents 
will not try to escape from their children, nor to murder 
them before they are born ; for they will be the children 
of love, brought into the world for their own well being, 
quite as much as for the pleasure of their creators. The 
unmated and unfortunate will not be deserted ; for when 
love is acknowledged as the right of all some effort will 
be made to secure the possibility of their obtaining what 
they need ; and they will at least receive something 
better than heartless derision and neglect. 

What all the developments of an unselfish love, en- 
lightened by science, will be it is too soon to predict. 
All the data for conclusions do not yet exist. It is suffi- 
cient to know that they will be only good. An impulse 
that is both just and wise can do no harm, and is not to 
be judged from experience of such love as the world has 
hitherto possessed. Of the old ideas, we are sure that 
they have led to the most debasing of all tyranny and 
slavery, and in frequent occasional instances to the most 
fiendish of all crimes. The new, being opposite in char- 
acter and tendency, may be expected to have opposite 
results. As the old doctrines, habits, and purposes gen- 
erated disease, misery, and death, the new truth, and the 
unselfish spirit, will evolve health, happiness, and life. 
Of all the changes brought about by the evolution of un- 
selfishness those connected with this master passion will 
be the greatest and most important. Of all the gospels 
ever brought to mankind this one of a love redeemed 
from ignorance, brutality, and sin will be the most joy- 
giving and precious. Whoever, after bringing the other 
departments of his nature into harmony with the law of 
unselfishness, as previously explained, shall finally con- 
vert and subordinate the love feeling, and thus come to 
understand the full meaning of this new evangel, and to 
experience its full effects, may expect to realize the joys 
of the third heaven in the life on earth. 



CHAPTER XV. 



RELIGIOSITY AND RELIGION. 



IN adding- one more to the innumerable discussions 
on Religion, I do so with the excuse of believing 
there is still something more to be said from the scien- 
tific point of view, before any substantial agreement 
among thoughtful minds will be reached. Until such 
harmony shall be arrived at, the importance of the sub- 
ject will render discussion inevitable. 

The main point to be presented here has regard to the 
religious feeling. What is the precise nature of that 
feeling, and what the end to be attained by its operation, 
— its real purpose and its accomplishment.? Can these 
be stated any better than they have been stated a thous- 
and times already ? Perhaps not, but they can at least 
be stated differently, if not more rationally. 

Let us see if we can discover anything by an analogi- 
cal process. 

When we find a plant rapidly putting forth healthy 
leaves and branches, preparatory to. blossoming and 
fruiting, we say it is thrifty, it will get a good growth, 
and produce a crop of wholesome fruit, it is having its 
natural development, it is doing well. 

When we see a young animal in the same healthy and 
growing condition we speak well of that *also ; it is 
doing all that could be expected of it, and gives good 



332 RELIGIOSITY 

promise of becoming a perfect animal. We do not 
accuse it of anything wrong. 

If it is a child, growing a strong, well-proportioned, 
graceful body, not necessarily large, eating and sleeping, 
playing and working, doing these heartily and regularly, 
we praise it as a good-looking, healthy child. If it is 
bright and wide awake, quick to see and hear, to 
remember and understand, cheerful and well disposed, 
we say it has a healthily growing mind, and promises to 
be an intelligent, capable man or woman. It is doing 
well, doing all it could be asked to do. We do not bring 
any charge against it, nor, ordinarily, speak of it as 
being irreligious. 

Now, what are mature men and women doing when 
they are doing their best.'' Is it making money, getting 
office, becoming leaders of fashion, racing yachts, study- 
ing art, or acquiring culture.? Not at all. No one takes 
either of these things to be the noblest vocation of a 
human being. If we ask the religionist what it is he says 
religion; if the agnostic or freethinker be questioned he 
answers morality. If these two were acknowledged to 
be one, as I hope to show that they are, and that both 
parties unknowingly mean precisely the same, then the 
answer is that man is doing his best work when he is 
becoming religious, or cultivating true goodness. The 
desire to do that is his highest aspiration ; that is the 
blossom and fruit of the human plant. 

Supposing this to be correct, what is it but to say that 
the religious feeling is the desire to become moral, the 
aspiration to be unselfish — to be just, generous, humane, 
magnanimous, benevolent, and all the rest, the longing 
after moral perfection, the desire to grow in all the 
pecuHarly human qualities } And what is this but the same 
impulse in man which in the plant is the tendency to 
grow, to blossom and bear fruit, and in the animal to 
become the full-grown, perfect, reproductive animal.? 
This tendency is what I mean by Religiosity. 



AND RELIGION 333 

But the religionist will immediately insist that religion 
is something more than morality, and different from it ; 
something more even than ''morality touched by emo- 
tion." Prof Drummond in that remarkable work, "Nat- 
ural Law in the Spiritual World," refers to the Sermon on 
the Mount as an embodiment of the religious spirit, and 
triumphantly asks, "What moralist ever proposed to 
advocate such monitions as rules of morality ? " We 
may admit that no one ever did, that the distinction be- 
tween religion and morality has always been kept up, and 
still the two things can be shown to be in essence one. 
Perhaps the Sermon on the Mount will furnish as suitable 
a test as could be named. 

No one will deny that justice is morality. I have pre- 
viously exhibited it as equality, and the love of equality 
as the love of justice. Now, to be meek — to be mild, 
patient, peaceable under the infliction of evil — we may 
have three kinds of motive, one, that of duty to God, 
which is a form of gratitude, and springs from a sense of 
justice, as does gratitude in all cases. Another motive 
comes from the enlightened consciousness or reflection 
that the person who does evil is more unfortunate than 
we are, in the fact that he desires to be, or can be, unjust 
to us. Our willingness to be patient and gentle with 
him is then prompted by benevolence, which is a semi- 
conscious acknowledgment that he' is entitled to gener- 
osity because he is entitled to better fortune or greater 
happiness; this again being a sense of what is just, as it 
is all the while assumed that the wicked, mean, or unjust 
man is an unhappy one. The third motive is aspiration, 
the desire to possess both justice and generosity because 
they are right in bringing greater happiness to both self 
and others. The result coming from all three is the same, 
that there is an advance toward greater equality of hap- 
piness between the doer of wrong and the sufferer, 
because the latter has been meek. The faci that he can 



334 RELIGIOSITY 

be meek is the proof of his previous moral superiority, 
and the good effect of meekness on the wrong-doer is an 
indication that he too has made an advance. 

To be ''poor in spirit," what is it but to avoid arro- 
gance and haughtiness, to invade no one's personaHty, 
to assume nothing, to claim no more than the poorest 
and humblest can share, to willingly submit to what is 
just and right, however mean the claimant may be, to 
ignore superiority and make the lowest, the weakest, 
the most unfortunate the equal of oneself as nearly as 
possible, to take these along abreast of us in the same 
rank, in appearance, or go down to theirs if necessary. 
You may call it lowering ourselves if you will, or a 
raising of them ; morally it is a raising of both, and 
lessens the distance between superror and inferior, in 
both character and happiness. 

Those who "hunger and thirst after righteousness," 
in the best sense of the word, are they who love justice 
and equality for all, and aspire after freedom from all 
wrong-doing. The same feeling is enjoined by a high 
morality. The merciful and the peacemakers are they 
who aim to lighten the misery of others, suffering from 
their own selfishness or unjust conduct. The same 
peaceful and merciful ones, when they see an individual 
who has been too happy to have any understanding of 
misery, would willingly see him suffer enough to render 
him conscious of what suffering means to others, and 
dispose him to sympathy ; all which shows that these 
classes of good people, acting from benevolence or gen- 
erosity, have at bottom an unconscious desire to see an 
equality of happiness. 

The "pure in heart" are they who shall become thor- 
oughly and permanently dominated by the spirit of 
unselfish goodness, and thereby shall come to have a 
knowledge of God. Their whole natures are moralized. 
I shall speak of them more at length in a separate chap- 
ter, on Conversion. 



AND RELIGION - 335 

The teaching that deadly anger is murder, that lust is 
adultery, and intended crime of any kind is criminal, 
needs no discussion ; it is equally true whether the 
offence be called moral or religious, and haS: no peculiar 
religious quality. The condemnation of ostentatious 
prayer, alms-giving and fasting is in accordance with 
the same idea ; for as guilty purpose makes guilt, and 
absence of it takes away guilt, so absence of true vir- 
tuous purpose from alms-giving or prayer prevents it 
from being true prayer or charity. The self-righteous 
criticism that would pull a mote from a brother's eye 
while a larger one was in its own, has been condemned 
everywhere and always ; and it will hardly be claimed 
that such condemnation is more specially religious than 
moral. 

"Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteous- 
ness sake." Yes, truly blessed when they can feel, the 
persecution, yet know that it comes from an unfortunate 
state of mind — the ignorance, error, and selfishness of 
undevelopment — and hence have no desire to return evil 
for evil ; when they can accept it as a parent accepts 
the wrong-doing of a child, in a spirit of magnanimity, 
believing there is some germ of goodness in the wrong- 
doer, and trusting to its future outgrowth to nnake the 
suitable return. Generosity and forbearance in such 
case is a giving of moral credit to. the morally weak, and 
is an encouragement to goodness. 

Is generosity morality .? To some extent at least it is 
so considered. The generosity of the parent to the 
child is held to be a duty to the child. The state 
acknowledges a duty to the poor, and other unfortunate 
ones, in providing almshouses and asylums, to prevent 
the inequality of these unfortunates from being as marked, 
as it would be otherwise. But the distinction of religion 
from morality is that it enjoins a conduct more generous, 
more magnanimous, more unselfish than any required 



33^ RELIGIOSITY 

by morality, in the ordinary sense. This transcendental 
generosity exhorts us to resist not evil, to turn the other 
cheek when assaulted on one, to give to him that asketh 
and from him that would borrow to turn not away, to 
allow him that hath taken our coat to take our cloak also, 
to forgive the repenting offender an unlimited number of 
times, to love our enemies and pray for them that per- 
secute us, to heap burning coals of kindness on the 
heads of them that injure us in any manner, to labor for 
the good of the unthankful and the evil — the mean, the 
lazy, the vicious, degraded and criminal — to do for 
others as we would have others do for us, and do noth- 
ing against others we would not have done against 
ourselves. To the ordinary man of the world these 
injunctions are rank nonsense; to the religious their 
apparent irrationality may be a proof of their divinity. 
But there is really no mystery here, no lack of rational- 
ity. When I consider that the man who smites me on 
the jaw is one who believes I have seriously injured 
him, in some indirect manner if not directly, then, if it 
be true that I have, my only honest and just course, 
however contrary to custom and to the selfish impulses 
of the natural man, is to bravely take any punishment, 
not outrageous, he may choose to inflict, provided he 
cannot be satisfied otherwise. When he perceives that 
I have this willingness to do him justice it will probably 
not take long to make everything satisfactory between 
us ; evil will be overcome with good, and the correct- 
ness of the mj unction verified. The difficulty is that our 
daily life is under such a perpetual teaching of selfish- 
ness, in its various forms, that we never imagine it 
possible to follow the directions given. Even an indig- 
nant complaint is pretty sure to meet with a return of 
wrath. This is all a mistake. We can learn to calmly 
accept harsh criticism when it is deserved, we can learn 
even to accept a blow without becoming angry ; and 



AND RELIGION 33/ 

one is not a thoroughly honest man till he possesses this 
ability. 

There is as good a reason for giving up one's coat or 
cloak, for lending money, or giving to him that asks. 
The social system under which we live, and under which 
Jesus and all the great religious teachers lived, is one 
that generates inequality and perpetuates it. Poverty 
is a necessary concomitant of great wealth, ignorance 
goes with high culture, and criminality with goodness. 
Through this arrangement the poor, ignorant, and 
wicked are as much sinned against as sinning, and the 
comparative neglect of all of them by society is quite as 
reprehensible as their own conduct. What Jesus meant 
by our allowing one to take both coat and cloak through 
the law I do not know, and it may be uncertain. But 
when we remember that he who steals a coat is one 
whom society has allowed to grow up neglected, with- 
out learning any useful method of supporting himself, 
without being secured an opportunity to labor, or taught 
that labor was a duty ; that moreover he may have 
inherited weakness or laziness from idle parents ; and 
that in consequence of all these disabilities he is in want 
of clothing or food or money, though by natural justice 
entitled to an equal opportunity to obtain and enjoy, — 
considering all this, I say, it is not so very difficult to 
tell the robber to take your cloak also if he needs it more 
than you do, or to lend him money or credit, or to give 
the poor tramp a good breakfast and a kind word. 
Jesus, Gautama and Moses may not have perceived how 
severely social injustice affects the less fortunate; but 
their utterances recognize that there is an injustice, 
and virtually acknowledge much of the wrong the mod- 
ern socialist claims in his indictment of society. And 
looking at these requirements in this light they lose 
their superhuman quality, becoming simple exhortations 
to do such justice as we can to those whom society lias 



333 RELIGIOSITY 

neglected, and allowed to be deprived of their rights. 
Call them religion or morality, they imply the duty of 
doing something for the weak, depraved and inferior, 
Avhich if practiced would operate to raise them, and 
tend toward the equality of all. In essential character 
the feeling demanded is the same as that of the parent 
for the child, the desire of the morally superior to benefit 
the inferior, and a willingness to suffer in order that it 
may be accomplished. The parent has more patience 
with the faults of the child for knowing something of the 
causes of them in the child nature ; and when we as 
fully understand the causes of feeling and action in the 
adult man or woman the generosity that is kind to the 
unthankful and the evil, and which labors for the benefit 
of the offender, will be much less difficult, and will be 
seen to iuA^olve no different morality. The transcend- 
ental generosity converts into a transcendental or finer 
justice ; which unconsciously recognizes the right of the 
poor, the weak, the criminal, and the unhappy to an 
ultimate equal share of happiness with others, — a present 
right to what they can enjoy, a prospective right to a 
better capacity of enjoyment. 

"Do unto others as you would have others do unto 
you" requires both justice and generosity, and both 
sentiments aim at equality as a final result ; for every one 
wishes to be treated justly, every one wishes to be treated 
generously ; every one when in trouble desires to be 
raised out of it ; every one wants to be helped along 
toward the attainment of as much happiness as the more 
fortunate ones possess. The command is, — Do all this to 
others. 

How many people ever thought whether the Golden 
Rule was religious or moral.? "How would you like it 
yourself.? Put yourself in his place," — these are expres- 
sions common everywhere, with all sorts of people, and 
they mean precisely the same as the Golden Rule. To 



AND RELIGION 339 

irrelio^ious persons they are not supposed to express a re- 
ligious feeling, but a simple common perception of justice, 
or that what is right for one is equally right for another. 

The only noteworthy criticism of the Golden Rule is 
that it forbids the punishment of the criminal. But when 
we have learned that the criminal's nature is the product of 
conditions, causes and circumstances, which have made 
him what he is ; that he is really the most unfortunate of 
all unfortunates ; and when, acting on this knowledge we 
have provided efficacious means for instructing, reform- 
ing, and morally educating him, his punishment will be 
the very thing the Golden Rule demands, what he will 
thank us for, what we should rationally desire for our- 
selves or our children. 

The advice given to cast away an eye or other member 
of the body that causes one to offend, if really the utter- 
ance of Jesus and not the forgery of a priest, is the teach- 
ing of that asceticism common to all religions, and growing 
out of the old spiritualistic philosophy they all rest upon, 
which makes body and soul antagonistic. Though to 
some degree excusable, and perhaps necessary in a time 
of ignorance, yet when carried to the extreme here com- 
mended it becomes barbarous and horrible, unworthy the 
religion of a savage. The command to the disciple to 
take neither purse nor scrip, nor make any provision for 
food, clothing, or shelter, which the Master himself so 
well obeyed, is but another instance of that counsel the 
prophet, seer, medium, mystic and devotee always gets, 
to rely wholly on the spiritual power controlling him for 
everything. 

The outcome of this hasty examination of the Sermon 
is, that the transcendental generosity of religion, and the 
transcen dental yV/sZ/ce of a high morality are one. ''When 
thou makest a feast call not thy friends nor rich neighbors, 
but bid the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind," the 
mean, wretched, despised and outcast, "and thou shalt 



340 RELIGIOSITY 

be blessed," — that is the language of Religion. "Do 
such justice in the earth that all the poor miserables will 
be able to make a feast for themselves, and then we shall 
all be happy together," — this is what Socialism would say. 
The spirit of both is a spirit of unselfishness, a willingness 
to consider the happiness of others as readily as one's 
own. Unselfishness is a designation all can understand, 
and about which there need be little dispute. 

Another point made by Mr. Drummond in the book re- 
ferred to, is that morality is limited and unprogressive, 
the difference between it and spirituality being like that 
between crystalization and life; that in morality we 
have got as far as w^e can go, whereas, spiritually *' we 
do not yet know what we shall be." The unprogressive 
character of morality was also asserted by Buckle, a 
materialist thinker, a quarter of a century since ; though 
the progressive element with him was intellect, not spir- 
ituality. But if morality and spirituality are in nature and 
purpose one, as above pointed out, no other argument 
is needed to prove this notion mistaken ; if there were 
need the history of the progressive races would show 
that morality has been always changing in both character 
and amount, and as a net result improving; the stan- 
dards set up by the socialist, and by various reformers of 
the present time, are higher than ever were know before. 
The progressiveness of intellect makes progressive every- 
thing connected with it. Morality is subject to the law 
of Evolution. And if we do not yet fully know what we 
shall be, it is at least allowable to believe that some of 
the more advanced are approaching the point where a 
higher conception of our future moral state will be pos- 
sible. 

I have defined religiosity as aspiration, the desire to be 
perfect in this unselfish morality that looks upon every 



AND RELIGION 34I 

human soul as of equal value, or as entitled to opportu- 
nity for becoming equal to the best. But this, be it 
observed, is religious manifestation only in its highest 
form. The religion, so called, of barbarous tribes and 
half-civilized nations exhibits little if any of this feeling ; 
there is little worthy motive of any kind, mostly fear and 
selfish prudence, seeking safety from the displeasure of 
some fearful god. The good that finally comes out of it I 
have before stated to be a forced cultivation of unselfish- 
ness through the habit of sacrifice, which at length gener- 
ates an ability to do unselfish acts without compulsion. 
I think there is a question of race connected with this, 
and doubt if any of the yellow, black, or red races have 
ever reached anything very high save in rare individual 
instances. The Semitic and Aryan peoples manifest relig- 
iosity proper as moral aspiration. And yet the masses 
of the Mohammedans I judge have little of it; neither do 
the Brahminical and Buddhist Hindoos possess it in high 
degree. Individuals among all these have exhibited its 
tendency to goodness, and have become saints to those 
below them. But it is only in the Christendom of West- 
ern Europe and America that it has become general, and 
mostly in those divisions that are Protestant. Wherever 
it is most abundant there is the least religious formalism 
and ritual ; where it is least there ostentations ritualism 
and multitudinous observances constitute what is called 
religious worship. The progress from one of these states 
to the other shows the increase or decline of true religios- 
ity ; and by this criterion the religiosity of our time is 
decreasing, being gradually overcome by the frivolity, 
pleasure-seeking, and general selfishness that goes with 
great wealth and luxury. 

The formal observances of religion probably have some 
usefulness to the wholly selfish person, through their 
suggestion of various better feelings ; thereby, as we 
might say, planting the germs of the religious faculty. 



342 RELIGIOSITY 

We may then look upon sentimental or meditative religion 
— that state in which unselfish goodness is thought upon, 
or talked about, and the enthusiasm of it dissipated in 
prayers, songs, and exhortations, with no result of good 
deeds — as comparable to the germinating stage in the 
life of a plant, when it puts forth the beginnings of a root 
and stem, in preparation for more active growth, after the 
upward shoot shall have reached the open air and sun- 
light. We do not see any growth till the shoot has 
appeared above ground, though it has been slowly going 
on ; and in a similar manner, we may hope that the 
good works of justice and benevolence will in time grow 
out of sentimental religion, though no signs of them be 
apparent when we look. 

S.wedenborg tells us that a man has neither faith nor 
charity before they exist in works, apparently counting 
sentimentalism for nothing ; but I see no reason against 
assuming that the germs of the unselfish feeling get their 
first impulse to growth in the contemplation of unselfish 
ideals till they become strong enough to eventuate in 
action or good works. It is no less true that ''it is only 
in working for mutual satisfaction and happiness that 
man arises to moral perfection," as said by one whose 
religiosity manifested itself in producing the Social Palace 
or Familistere at Guise in France. 

Dr. J. R. Buchanan, in a noteworthy book on a new 
treatment of disease,* will not allow that persons of 
mere unselfish amiability — sentimental goodness with- 
out energy to act — can have even robust health; "our 
conception of virtue should be that of a positive power^ 
acting with that broad sympathy and intuitive under- 
standing which realize that happiness cannot be an iso- 
lated condition, and that he who would enter the sphere 
of true happiness must make a sphere of happiness around 

*" Therapeutic Sarcognomy, a scientific exposition of the mysterious union of Soul, 
Brain and Body, and a New System of Therapeiitic Practice, &c. by Joseph Bodes 
Buchanan," Published by the author. No. C James St., Boston, Mass. 



AND RELIGION 343 

him in human beings, and never relax in the pursuit of 
those noble aims to which his life is devoted." 

Sentimentalisrn, with its accompaniment of creeds and 
observances, though it may be helpful to the child, is to 
the more mature person an encouragement to moral indo- 
lence and indifference, an excuse for backsliding and de- 
moralization, a substitution of the inferior for the superior; 
hence such a one naturally dislikes it, and if not already 
strong should avoid being under its to him unwholesome 
influence. It is like a muscular man's losing his strength 
by doing the work of a child. 

Out of this sentimental state, as we may well believe, 
the religious feeling grows by little acts of self-sacrifice, 
generosity, magnanimity, kindness, into the ability for 
greater and greater deeds of the unselfish order, till final- 
ly religion becomes in practice, what James Martineau 
called it, ''the culminating meridian of morals," or as I 
should express it, the culmination of unselfishness, — the 
ability to live the precepts of the Sermon on the Mount 
and the Golden Rule, with all the similar requirements 
to be found in various religious systems, all of them 
having an ultimate purpose to recognize and realize the 
equal right of all human beings to such happiness as 
they are capable of experiencing, under the best condi- 
tions, and in their best state of development. 

Religiosity then is the aspirational feeling, theoretical 
religion is whatever doctrine of duty is conducive to 
moral growth, practical religion is the unselfish life in its 
higher aspects. 

With this conception of what true religious feeling is, 
as the aspiration after moral perfection, in deed as well 
as m sentiment, let us compare it with some other 
doctrines of religion, or morality, to see what it is not, 
and how far they are true or false as tried by this 
standard. The religion we are contemplating is the 



344 RELIGIOSITY 

relig-ion of the heart or feelings. But there exists a 
similar desire to perfect the body, — to acquire physical 
strength, activity and endurance. Would it be proper to 
call this a religious feeling, and its outworking the 
religion of the body.? If so this was the religion of the 
old Greeks, and was manifested at their games instead 
of in their temples. Having it they endowed their gods 
with physical strength and beauty, and the passions of the 
animal man. In our time and country it is exhibited 
mainly in boxing, and base-ball. The religion of the 
heart, by antagonizing that of the body, shuts away all 
its own refining influences from the latter, so that it 
readily becomes associated with drunkenness, profanity, 
and brutality, especially after being corrupted by the 
possibility of turning every contest of strength and skill 
into a means for obtaining money. 

Moreover, we possess a desire to grow intellectually, 
to cultivate observation and the reasoning or classifying 
faculty, and to discover new objects or new truth. The 
speculator, the scientist, the mathematician, the logician, 
the debater, have this form of religiosity, if we call it 
such, and its operation might be called the religion of the 
intellect. The love of truth for moral uses belongs, how- 
ever, to the religion of the heart ; this, instead, is love of 
investigation for its own sake— for the satisfaction of 
discovery. 

Still furthermore, there is an aspiration broader, deep- 
er, higher than any of these, and including all of them. 
It is the desire for the perfect in every direction, in all 
kinds of capacity, thought, feeling and action. It 
aspires to make the man perfect, his actions perfect, and 
his surroundings perfect. It is not alone the art feeling, 
as ordinarily understood, but a vastly larger one of 
similar character ; for it takes in the self, the neighbor, 
and the public, the home, the village or city, and the . 
whole nation ; and will finally take in the whole world 



AND RELIGION 345 

It is the passion for universal improvement. Not know- 
ing any better name, I w^ill call this desire for a universal 
artistic perfection Artosity, and designate it as the most 
perfect aspiration of our whole nature, superior to the 
religious because larger, the very noblest feeling of 
them all. 

Returning to religion proper, the religion of the heart, 
the contrast of this with the old religions, appears to be, 
as stated in the first chapter, that in the old, character- 
ized largely by revelation, their doctrine is of the nature 
of the instruction given to a child; it comes claiming the 
authority of a superior wisdom, and is accepted mostly 
with a child's ignorant credulity, mingled with supersti- 
tion, without knowledge of its true nature and ultimate 
purpose. The new has the scientific character of the 
mature thought of the man. It grows out of his intel- 
lectual development, as the race becomes thoughtful, 
scientific, and critical. As the old are adapted to the 
child-stage of mental evolution this is adapted to its full 
growth or maturity. As they are the religion of the past, 
this is likely to be the religion of the future. 

All former religion is conservative ; aiming to retain and 
preserve the primitive innocence, dependence, and simple 
goodness of the child, and by teaching from spiritual 
authority cultivate those qualities. It resists material 
science because, in ordinary human blindness, that be- 
comes antagonistic to spiritual knowledge, and tends 
toward sophistication of the childish religious mind, as 
does all contact with worldly affairs. 

Religious books and teachers generally exhibit the same 
spirit toward science that the ill-informed parent does 
toward a precocious child that takes to new and strange 
studies and pursuits, which the parent imagines to be 
hurtful or dangerous, because they are beyond the 
parent's experience, and are liable to beget contempt for 
it. But though hitherto the childish or religious mind in 



346 RELIGIOSITY 

passing through its stages of growth to maturity becomes 
hostile to religion, in the future times, when Religion and 
Science, or spiritual and material knowledge rather, shall 
have become harmonized, through a better understanding 
of both, and of human nature, the mind will become 
intellectual and critical without becoming antagonistic to 
spiritual knowledge ; just as under the wise head of a 
family the child outgrows the customs and restraints of 
childhood, and the parental authority, without antagonism, 
without losing respect and affection for the parent, or any 
of the inherited goodness ; but on the contrary having all 
its good qualities increased. 

What has this religion to do with doctrine ? Nothing at 
all. It has no doctrine of its own, only a science of 
human nature and human destiny, which it draws from 
all other science. Like the Pietism of the Seventeenth, 
century, its vitality consists in the actual moralized life, 
— in "holy living," not in beliefs. It is anew Pietism, 
having positive knowledge for its inspiration, not the 
revelation of a scripture. But this pietism of science is 
superior to the pietism of religion in that it asks for no 
faith in a scheme of salvation, in immortality, or in a per- 
sonal deity. Without either of these one may still be a 
pietist. By losing faith in immortality or God man does 
not lose his human character ; he still has religiosity ; he 
can no more lose the tendency to grow than can a willow 
tree. If he has believed that all goodness comes from 
God, and then loses God, he may be tempted into moral 
indifference, and a foolish or wicked self-indulgence; but 
unless a mere animal he will be a discontented and 
unhappy man till he again finds some motive for moral 
growth and unselfish activity. This pietism does not 
ask him to spend his life for God, but in unselfish work 
for the human race ; thereby to achieve his own moral 
perfection along with that of others, and his own greatest 
happiness along with theirs. The materialist and atheist 



AND RELIGION 34/ 

may possess it therefore as truly as any believer ; for with 
either of them it does not depend on belief but on degree 
of mental development. In the succeeding chapter it will 
be shown that without any of the peculiar beliefs of the 
christian, the atheist or materiaHst may yet come to know 
all the christian's peculiar experiences. Notwithstanding 
his claims, honestly made as they are, the christian has 
really no monopoly of any spiritual experience, knowl- 
edge, or acquirement ; nothing but that all may know 
and share, independently of all belief or unbelief. The 
basis for human' unity is absolutely universal in the 
human capacity and aspiration for goodness. 

All religions are said, by those who have made 
comparative religion a study, to be characterized by 
spiriiualism — a belief in spiritual persons and a spirit 
worla. All those mysterious experiences and happen- 
ings that belong to Modern Spiritualism are found 
equally in Christianity, Judaism, Mohammedism, Buddh- 
ism, and Brahmanism. All the mystic powers of mod- 
ern mediums were equally possessed by the ancient 
prophets and seers.- The modern spiritualism differs 
from the ancient principally in discarding the mystery 
and the superstition, in attempting to make the spirit 
world natural, in endeavoring to show that it and the 
material are both parts of one connected whole, gov- 
erned by the same law and order that we know to exist 
in the physical. But a belief or disbelief in such a 
spiritual world, either of the ancient or modern type, 
has no necessary connection with religiosity or religion. 
It could have such connection only when immortality 
was supposed to be a gift of God, and religion involved 
an effort to obtain it through God's favor. Religious 
feeling however, arises from human nature; and the 
religious life depends only on a society of human 
beings, toward and with whom it can be manifested. 
Whether this society has a continued life in another 



348 RELIGIOSITY 

world, or is confined to this, makes no difference in 
the actual outworking of the religious impulse. It must 
show itself here and now, as well as then and there ; for 
its purpose is to live the unselfish life without regard to 
time or place. 

I well know what the orthodox religionist will object 
to all this. He will say that religious feeling includes a 
vast sense of gratitude to a personal God for all he has 
done for us — our creation, and all we enjoy in life, with 
all the possibilities of immortality ; a deep reverence for 
a being in power and capacities far beyond what we can 
conceive, and a loving worship and imitation of the 
infinite excellencies of such a being. But if it be shown 
that whatever has been done for us, aside from the 
wilderness of land and water furnished by Nature, has 
been done by those of our own race, the occasion for an 
outflow of gratitude will be the same. The being of 
infinite perfections is in reality only an enlarged human 
copy of the worshipper himself in his best moments ; 
for that is all any one can conceive of a personal deity, 
according to the law that we can conceive of nothing 
beyond experience. The constant familiarity with 
which christians of all degrees speak of and to their 
deity, is a sufficient evidence that the ideal conceived 
and worshipped is not so high a one as the words 
describe. An ideal of some kind will be worshipped, 
and the best embodiment of it that is known or imag- 
ined; but whether a human hero or superhuman makes 
little if any difference. It is the imitation of superior 
excellence carried into actual life, after the sentimental 
contemplation and admiration of it, that enables the 
human soul to grow toward righteousness, and to 
become godlike. The religious instinct will thus find an 
object, whatever may be the ultimate fate of the dogmas 
of God and Immortality. Whatever doctrine most favors 
any person in the progress toward unselfishness is a 



AND RELIGION 349 

true doctrine for him in the stage he has reached. At a 
higher level a more complete form of truth will become 
necessary. The complete and harmonious truth, how- 
ever, can be attained only along with that complete 
unselfishness which, in spite of all bigotry or personal 
preference, can accept it in its entirety. 

Let me not be understood to say, however, that the 
religionist's love of a personified Goodness or God, so 
far as it is a personified Good and not personified Evil, 
and the doing of his will because it is right, and for the 
sake of being in sympathy with him, is not a true re- 
ligious manifestation ; for it is ; and the motives and 
purposes will be substantially the same as above de- 
scribed; the object of worship will be an unselfish 
person, and the imitation of him a doing of unselfish 
work. 

It is hardly necessary to say that religiosity is not 
wonder nor awe. If there is any satisfaction in contem- 
plating an almighty and incomprehensible power, or an 
insoluble mystery, I know nothing of it, and cannot 
conceive of those feelings as having any possible value. 
An unknowable mystery as the background of the 
universe, and an object of worship, seems to me an 
unmitigated fraud upon the religious sentiment. Won- 
der, as well pointed out by Lester F. Ward in his 
'^Dynamic Sociology," is a feeling belonging to the 
ignorant, not to those who understand. And it is no 
different whether the object of it be a small thing or a 
great one. A source of wonder will always be present, 
no doubt, in the fact that the materials for a universe 
exist incapable of being either created or annihilated; 
but the contemplation of it brings no pleasure, nor any 
moral improvement. 

Awe is the consciousness of a possible danger from 
some uncontrollable power of uncertain action, like a 



350 RELIGIOSITY 

thunder-storm or an insane person ; but probably no one 
ever found it either satisfying- or ennobling. 

Having- compared this religion of growth with Pietism 
as a religion, and shown that it has no regard for doc- 
trine, I will next compare it with Stoicism as a morality. 
"He who forsaketh morality despiseth his own soul," 
was written by one of the old Hebrew wise men, and 
this might well have been the motto of the Stoics, whose 
religion or morality was one of self-respect. With them 
"to be virtuous was to be godlike;" not after the like- 
ness of the Greek gods, but after that of the Supreme 
Good of Plato, So this religion I am endeavoring to 
expound is a religion of self-respect, — a self-respect that 
is honest enough to discard all the false claims of pride, 
conceit, and self-righteousness, all show and vainglori- 
ous pretense ; assuming only what the keenest criticism 
allows to be our own ; admitting in all candor that what 
we are is what we have been made, and that what we 
possess is what has been bestowed upon us, under the 
reign of natural causation ; yet knowing the capacities of 
the human soul, and determined to do everything to 
make it strong, pure, bright, and beautiful in the future. 

The superiority to law claimed by the Stoics was but 
the natural result of moral evolution that had reached a 
certain high stage ; and has appeared in various religious 
sects at various times in the world's history. Though 
none of them may have attained to that stage com- 
pletely, the fact that they came near enough to it to 
form this conception is a fact full of hope for future 
Humanity, for it is the capability of being a law to 
oneself. 

I might here be expected to pay some attention to the 
Positivist religion, only that to do so would require a 
discussion of the proper limits of unselfishness, a theme 
not desirable to take up, further than to say that to 



AND RELIGION 351 

entirely ignore or completely abnegate self, as Positivism 
seems to teach, is to make unselfishness irrational. For, 
underlying all altruistic motives and purposes there is 
"this hidden selfish one, — that by present self-sacrifice 
there is to be an ultimate greater gain of happiness. 
This is a motive of Mrhich no one can divest himself. 
Unselfish feeling and conduct, carried to its highest 
rational limit, thus becomes a transcendental selfishness, 
wiser, more far-sighted than any selfishness, as the word 
is commonly understood. 

The satisfaction of the Stoic in self-respect, or the devo- 
tion of individuals to a high ideal of duty for the sake of 
its own nobility, regardless of personal interest or 
pleasure, is like the satisfaction of the artist in his best 
performance. It each case it is the satisfaction that 
comes from realizing an ideal of what is right, of accom- 
plishing a perfect work. The pleasure of benevolence to 
animals, and unfortunates who can make no return, is of 
the same kind. We are in the habit of calling it selfish or 
unselfish as the motive is low or high. The artist's work 
may be of little importance and his pleasure in it we call 
selfish ; that of the moralist may be of supreme import- 
ance, and we speak of his satisfaction as unselfish. The 
final reason for satisfaction, unconscious perhaps, is that 
the accomplishment of the most perfect ideal, with the 
most complete thoroughness and grace, brings the great- 
est result of human happiness. It is this which makes it 
high, noble, praiseworthy, that which ought to be. 

But the apparent necessity that takes the life of an in- 
dividual for the good of the multitude, like the conscrip- 
tion of an army, or that which compels the laborer to toil 
in the midst of danger for his bread, is a fearful wrong; 
and the virtue of submission to it is very doubtful. The 
continual or complete sacrifice of the superior for the in- 
ferior is certainly not commendable, for it is not just. 
There may be a foolish non-resistance as well as a wise 



352 RELIGIOSITY 

one. And the idea, occasionally appearing among senti- 
mental religionists, that we should be willing to suffer 
and be cursed for God's glory, that being the prime con- 
sideration, and human happiness secondary, — this is 
worse than irrational ; it is the product of a mind stultified 
by its own slavery to a false and inhuman conception of 
God. 

In regard to Asceticism, always, even to the present 
time, associated with religion, I must express my con- 
viction that however necessary it may have been in the 
past, the enlightenment of the future will abolish it 
utterly. We shall eat, drink, and do everything we do 
with a worthy motive, and a conscientious regard for the 
Universal Good. And when we can do so there will be 
nothing to prevent the complete normal gratification of 
all the normal desires of the animal man ; not only as a 
matter of justice to the physical nature, but also as a 
help to true spiritual progress; for all parts of the human 
nature will be then in harmony, and all acting in health- 
ful mutual cooperation. Until that time comes however, 
the warfare of the flesh and spirit will go on, and the 
triumph of the spirit will be won through more or less 
oppression of the body. 

What now is the ultimate object of religion, and its 
true reason for existence.? The rationale of the whole 
thing is that man's happiness comes mainly from society. 
The most perfect society, and the most complete adapta- 
tion to it, brings the most perfect happiness. The 
Christian church seeks blindly, under the guise of salva- 
tion, to prepare men for a society of ''the just made 
perfect " in a spirit world. Its true saints or holy ones 
are its most unselfish individuals, those capable of har- 
monious and loving union wuth such a body. A wise 
and benevolent deity in creating the race (assuming that 



AND RELIGION 353 

such a one did create) could have n® other object than 
such a society. This only could make his action rational. 
A god creating with any other motive would be only a 
selfish god, seeking his own adulation and glory, like a 
weak, ambitious human. And so far as Christian leaders 
have taught that God acted simply for his own good 
pleasure, like an almighty despot, they have attributed to 
him the despotic disposition that still lingered in their 
own hearts. Only a social purpose could be godlike. 
And only sympathy with such an end can make religion 
rational, and redeem it from being merely a scheme by 
which selfish men attempt to save their individual souls. 

Morality aims at the same object openly and con- 
sciously. To improve society, and fit the individual for 
life with his fellows, is the whole purpose of all its 
teachings, barring that small portion that tells him his 
duty to himself alone, and which properly ought not to 
be called morality at all, but prudence. The state at- 
tempts the same effort, at first in a negative way by legal 
suppression of immorality, and later in a more positive 
manner by education, and measures to promote the gen- 
eral welfare. I have previously exhibited morality as 
the vital element of political society, which the state 
must foster in order to continue its existence. The state 
has additional functions, it is true ; but after securing 
protection from external dangers, this appears to be its 
most important work. 

Socialism is making its own attempt at the same 
achievement, in a more direct and immediate way, 
through a reformation or reconstruction of present so- 
ciety, or by planting the germs of a new one. To its 
advocates it is the embodiment of morality, and a religion 
in the sense of being the highest object of their devotion, 
that which commands their most unselfish efforts. Of 
course this is hardly true of those few over-zealous and 
impulsive ones whose extreme estimate of their cause or 



354 RELIGIOSITY 

of themselves leads them to look upon their opponents as 
villains, and to take unjust, reckless and cruel means to 
accomplish the good they have in view. 

It is also a fact that the more advanced Christianity of 
the time is becoming tinctured wilh socialism of a mod- 
erate type, — Christian Socialism some of it is called. To 
me this seems a natural evolution. Another marked 
characteristic of the present age is the formation of asso- 
ciatio»s for moral culture, and of so-called religious 
bodies having no creed, and pledged only to cultivation 
of the higher life. This too, is a sign of progress. The 
tendency of religious sects toward a closer union on the 
basis of agreement in essentials, ignoring the minor 
pomts of doctrine, is yet another indication of the same 
kind. The one supreme objective point of both religion 
and socialism — of the church and the str.te — is a happy 
condition of society, characterized by the practical em- 
bodiment of justice, and by devotion to the highest 
rational ideals of unselfish conduct. Dimly perceived or 
more clearly, located in one world or another, sought di- 
rectly or indirectly, pursued with more or less sincerity and 
earnestness, with more or less wisdom in methods and 
means, this perfection of society has ever been the end 
that was to be accomplished. It is the condition toward 
which the hum.an race grows as truly as a plant grows 
toward its blossoms and fruit. 

What then shall we say of the religion that has no 
sympathy with the objects of socialism.^ except that it 
is a very poor and diluted, or else corrupt one. When a 
great preacher insults the laboring man of mere muscu- 
lar endowment by saying "he is entitled to his fodder" 
but no luxuries,* entirely forgetting that such a one has 



*In a lecture in Music Hall Boston, Nov. 20, 1884, the distinguished clergyman 
referred to, according to press report, made use of the following language. 

" 'The root of socialism, in its malignaut form, is the idea that the vast mass of 
men have the same rights as those at the to^j. They have not. They have the 
Tight to live ; the primary conditions of life are universal ; but the right to all 



AND RELIGION 355 

a right to grow, to develop, to possess the means of 
acquiring intelligence and the taste for better things, 
above all to educate his children into something better 
than himself; and vi^hen the preacher's sentiment is ap- 
plauded by a "cultured" audience, the facts indicate 
anything bilt the presence of religious or moral feeling. 
A true sense of justice thinks first of the most needy. 
Every person who possesses aught of true religiosity 
acknowledges the higher claims of equality ; and admits 
the duty of doing something to elevate the less fortunate 
into better views of social life, and into nobler aspira- 
tions and enjoyments. To say they are entitled ojily to 
the bare means of living is the most outrageous infidelity. 
And when the old Mother Church herself takes the posi- 
tion that men can rightfully be deprived of their common 
inheritance in the soil of the globe, as apparently she has 
done in the well-known case of Dr. McGlynn, then the 
orthodox and the heretic are equally shown to be lacking 
in the kind of spirit here taken to be religious. It is not 
strange that the intelligent workingman cares little for 
what is called "religion," or that the most conscientious 
persons are not found within the church membership. 

A few paragraphs upon the means of cultivating unself- 
ishness will close the present chapter. And first let me 
again contradict that common notion, taught by the 
teachers of religion, that intellect has little or nothing to 
do with morality. On the contrary the attainment of the 
unselfish character, like the attainment of any other good 
thing, depends upon knowing how it is to be acquired, — 
upon the knowledge of means, gained by the intellect, 
after it has already perceived the superior happiness to 
be secured, which is the incentive to effort. The mind 



tlie things belonging to civilization depends upon what a man is. The man who 
is merely bone and muscle has no right to that kind ; he has a right to fodder 
certainly.' (Applause and laughter)." 



356 RELIGIOSITY 

must first have an ideal, created by the intellect, and 
must be able to see how that ideal is superior to the 
present reality. Then, recognizing the ideal as right and 
the actual as wrong, ^t necessarily makes an effort for 
improvement. It is the same with a moral ideal as with 
any other. In a previous essay (Chap. Ill) I endeavored 
to show that a consciousness of duty comes from per- 
ceiving the superiority of right or ideal conduct, as being 
most conducive to happiness ; that it has the same 
foundation as an artist's love of the perfect in his art, or 
the mechanic's sense of right regarding his work, — because 
it is the realization of the perfect that brings complete 
satisfaction. And if there should be a dislike to admit 
such humble origin for that sense of duty which super- 
stition has made so wonderful, the dislike springs only 
from pride or superstition, and will give way before some 
natural cause for the sense of right. 

Having some conception of w^hat is just, or unselfish, 
or morally right, the ability to make this ideal actual is 
gained through a struggle with the selfish impulses, 
which is appropriately called a spiritual warfare. The 
well known fact has previously been referred to, that an 
army of soldiers, by winning a succession of victories 
over equal or greater numbers, acquired such a degree of 
courage and determination that they can be beaten only 
by a much superior force. Conversely, a series of defeats 
so disheartens or demoralizes an army that it can be 
beaten very easily. It is in a similar manner, as I con- 
ceive, that the moralization or demoralization of human 
beings in eveiy respect is accomplished. The successful 
effort at a small sacrifice of property, comfort, pride, 
reputation, or affection, for conscience sake — to do some 
good, some duty, some right thing — makes the succeed- 
ing one easier. Two or three of these may make it 
possible to achieve a greater one. In the process of time, 
with the additions of moral capacity that come by inher- 



AND RELIGION 35/ 

itance, and the conquest of one selfish feehng after another, 
a civilized man finally becomes capable of giving up his 
dearest wishes, his ruling passion, the strongest, most 
vital point of his selfish nature, anything and all but fife 
itself, and that he will risk, to accomplish what he be- 
lieves to be some great good to others, and thus an ideal 
of duty. 

If jn this connection a word more is required concern- 
ing the effect of religious exercises — ceremonies, exhi- 
bitions, prayers, fasts, music, preaching, pilgrimages, 
etc. it may be said that this is precisely the same that 
harangues, exhortations, patriotic music, banners, etc. 
have upon an army going into battle, or a political party 
before an election. In religion such influences do not 
ordinarily confer new power. They keep alive the sense 
of duty, of gratitude, benevolence, justice, whatever 
there may be of these feelings — not necessarily very 
much — thus keeping the religionist on guard against 
temptations and difficulties with such degree of ability 
as he possesses. With sufficient excitement he gains a 
stimulation from the impulses communicated by others, 
and for the time being is able to do more. But whether 
with or without excitement, it is the successful meeting 
of temptation, the triumph over selfishness, that gives 
additional moral courage and strengthj Just as the con- 
quering of one difficulty after another makes a man con- 
scious of increased energy for the next, so the success 
of one effort at self-conquest, and the realization of a 
new benefit or new happiness therefrom, renders him 
conscious of ability to do it again more easily, or to 
make a greater sacrifice of selfishness in some other way, 
when different circumstances call upon him for more 
public spirit, keener sympathy, or stronger sense of 
justice. In a word, it is the habit of meeting moral trials 
successfully that develops morality.* 

* See also Chap. 2, pp. 38, 51 and 52. 



358 RELIGIOSITY 

In all this conflict or struggle the intellect has its 
function to perform, not only in determining the ideal 
right for any given case, but also in tracing out all the 
probable and possible benefits to result from a right 
course, and all the bad effects of a wrong one, direct and 
indirect, proximate and ultimate. And it is here that the 
wisest person, the one best equipped with scientific 
knowledge of a high order, that is, an understanding of 
human nature and social evolution, has an advantagre 
over all others. Ordinary religious teaching and train- 
ing do not supply it. Teaching by authority gives no 
reason for a commandment, and without knowing the 
reason for it a thing is scarcely known at all. Hence 
the graduate of religious instruction goes wrong in cer- 
tain directions as readily as any one else. There has 
been no use of the intellect. 

Whatever subject one has knowledge about has inter- 
est for that person ; and this is as true of the study of 
morality, and of progress toward the unselfish life, as it 
is of any other subject. Just as the ship-builder who is 
to build a fast yacht studies carefully to perfect his ideal 
of it in a model, and then brings all his knowledge and 
resources to bear in overcoming difficulties, and embody- 
ing the ideal as completely as possible, so should every 
individual endeavor to make the best use of his intellect 
to perfect his ideal of unselfish feeling and conduct, and 
then to successfully carry it into practical realization. 
The more he studies and learns, both of the ideal and of 
the means of living in accordance with it, the more he 
desires to learn, and the better he will be able to do, as 
truly as the best mechanic or artist will be he who- best 
knows what the perfect thing is, and the best ways that 
can be taken to produce it. Though never perfect in his 
action, never as good as his knowledge of right, because 
the reality is never quite equal to the ideal, and one can 
be expected only to come a-s near the requirement as 



AND RELIGION 359 

possible under the circumstances, still it will remain true 
that the better the knowledge the better the performance. 
Here, then, is what the moralist has to do, — to elabo- 
rate or discover the highest ideals of unselfish feeling, 
thought, and conduct, in all departments of human activ- 
ity ; and the best methods for overcoming all the thou- 
sand and one difficulties and defects that prevent the 
complete realization of those ideals in actual every-day 
life. This is what the child and the youth are to be 
taught, and the practice urged and encouraged, not prin- 
cipally by emulation, still less by authority, but by clear 
and earnest appeals to the reasoning faculty, till through 
that and the experience of superior happiness from well- 
doing, the conscientious feeling, and the moral habit, 
are at length firmly established and become organic, the 
most vital, active, persistent and powerful element of 
the whole constitution. 

Neither the struggle of the soldier, nor the labor of the 
artist is alone the true type of the moralizing process ; 
it is better represented by both combined, and then they 
are insufficient. 

The next best thing to successful struggle in actual 
life is the imaginary one set forth in fiction having 
a moral purpose ; in description of the lives of heroic 
men and women ; and in accounts of heroic moral con- 
duct in occasional instances. Reading of this character 
has a lighter effect of the same kind as the actual 
experience would have ; and besides furnishing good 
ideals, prepares one to some extent for meeting similar 
realities in one's own life when they arise. There should 
not, however, be so much of it at once as to prevent the 
good impressions from being strongly fastened on the 
mind. The literary world is doing its duty in this 
respect better than ever before ; which fact may be 
counted as yet another indication of progress. 

The old religions assume man to be free yet depraved, 



360 RELIGIOSITY 

born into evil and prone to it as the sparks to fly up- 
ward ; the new will show him to be born into the 
selfishness of the child, a normal, not depraved condi- 
tion, and with a natural tendency to outgrow it into the 
full stature of unselfish goodness, but capable of doing 
so only through the aid of a high order of scientific 
knowledge. The intellect, appropriately subordinate in 
the childish religions of the past, based on the authority 
of inspiration, will in future be itself the fountain of all 
authority, the leading and dominating influence in all 
things, guiding the helpless, blind goodness, that has 
always despised it, into its own true completeness, and 
the permanent conquest of evil. 

The intellectual equipment must include a knowledge 
of society such as only the very few now possess. 
Spite of all we can say or do for the cultivation of moral- 
ity, there still exists the very serious fact that the indus- 
trial system of civilization — the whole business world — is 
conducted on principles of injustice. So long as men 
are taught that these are right or excusable, and are 
compelled to get a living under them, no thorough or 
complete moral education will be generally possible. 
The promising Sunday-school boy will still become the 
embezzling clerk or cashier, and defraud in a thousand 
ways. The defrauded criminal will take his revenge in 
crime. "Ye cannot serve God and Mammon," nor 
obtain wealth conscientiously, without seeking first the 
righteousness of the Kingdom, and then embodying it in 
the institutions of the world. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



CONVERSION AND SALVATION. 



SALVATION, to the old Hebrew meant salvation from 
his external enemies, and safety in enjoying the 
comforts of the present world. To the ancient Hindoo it 
meant escape from the miseries of a life that had too 
little happiness to be worth living. To the Christian it 
means rescue from the liability to future punishment for 
sin. To show what it means in the light of scientific 
rationality is the task of the present essay. 

What conversion means to the evangelical Christian 
every one has some idea; and this also must be made 
understandable to the rational faculty, so far as is pos- 
sible without one's passing through the experience so 
named. 

The philosophical doctrine that nothing can be known 
except through experience is disputed by one half the 
world's thinkers ; yet almost every person knows that he 
or she has had experiences that no one can understand 
who has not also had them ; a sort of universal confession 
of the truth of that doctrine. Every genuinely converted 
christian is one who knows his experience can be rightly 
understood only by another true christian. The uncon- 
verted christian, and the materialist or agnostic, know 
nothing of this peculiar experience ; and the materialist, 
especially, finds difficulty in believing it to be anything 



362 CONVERSION AND 

better than hallucination. So the proviso must be made 
that its explanation can h^ fully understood only by those 
who have gone through some degree of the experience. 
In this respect it is like all other experience v^hatever ; 
religious or secular, material or spiritual, the law regard- 
ing it is the same. Hallucination there may or may not be 
in connection with it ; but the thing itself is so truly real 
that one who has ever had a fair degree of it will never 
speak lightly of it afterward ; for it is one of the most 
sacred experiences, if not altogether the most sacred, of 
his whole life ; one never likely to be forgotten, because 
it is one, and the first one, that brings into action all the 
best feelings of the soul in a battle against the worst, 
strong or weak, many or few as either of them may be. 
I do not, however, attempt to say how many conversions 
are of this character, and have no doubt that many of 
those called such in "revival" excitements are entirely 
unworthy of the name. 

Ordinarily the experiences called conversions are 
passed through in the church or under its influence. 
And it should also be understood that they do not all 
occur in times of excitement, but are brought about under 
various circumstances of trial, sorrow, and danger 
adapted to produce them. In rare cases they occur even 
without any unusual cause. The instances of moral 
reform that take place outside of ordinary religious in- 
fluences are less noticeable, but in their essential char- 
acter, the triumph of good over evil, they are the same. 

The illumination by which we perceive spiritual things 
has been said to be the light of the Holy Ghost. But 
what is the Holy Ghost } In the Hebrew and Christian 
scriptures the name seems to have several meanings, 
but for our present purpose we need only two of them. 
One makes it that very condition of the mind, or 
disposition of the heart, which results from the most 



SALVATION 363 

thorough conversion — the spirit that makes one holy, to 
a degree ; in the other it is an unseen and indescribable 
influence coming from a holy source, inspiring in the 
recipient of it holy thoughts or sentiments, and a con- 
viction of wrong doing, gently impelling him to obey 
the dictates of conscience, to forsake his sinful ways, to 
sacrifice his dearly cherished forms of selfishness, and 
faithfully devote himself to living th'e higher life. The 
christian calls it the spirit of God, sent down to human 
hearts to influence them ; the more rational statement is 
that the spirit generated by conversion tends to com- 
municate itself to others, to bring them into the same 
state ; in other words, the good feeling in certain persons 
sends out an unseen influence, that tends to induce the 
same good feeling in others who may be susceptible to 
it. But let us examine it more at length. 

The spirit of goodness which makes the saint, the 
conscientious christian, the truly good man or woman, 
can be partially understood by nearly every one, for 
almost all may have at one time or another some con- 
sciousness of it in themselves. It is not this, but the 
unseen force given out by it, that is mysterious. 

We are familiar with the effect of excitement upon one 
coming within reach of it, when it is perceived by the 
ordinary senses, in looks, tones, words, gestures and 
actions ; and this effect is produced by religious excite- 
ment as readily as by that of patriotism, or anger, 
mirthfulness, gambling, or partizanship. But the influ- 
ence referred to is not that of excitement at all, in this 
sense, because it does not act upon the ordinary senses. 

Certain persons, however, without seeing, hearing, or 
reading about any particular excitement near them, will 
yet have an indistinct consciousness that there is such 
an excitement, and be able to tell what the predominant 
character of it is. The ability to do so is known among 
those familiar with it as the psychometric power, and 



364 CONVERSION AND 

facts in sufficient abundance exist to put its reality be. 
yond doubt. It is also sufficiently well known that 
some persons, without addressing the senses, can volun- 
tarily communicate their feelings to certain other per- 
sons. I have little doubt that they can thus impart their 
thoughts also, though in regard to, the present matter the 
feeling alone is sufficient. This latter kind of ability 
may be called a mesmeric power, as the ability to receive 
is a psychometric one. Excitement that increases any 
special feeling may increase the mesmeric power which 
carries that feeling to another; and its effect will thus be 
an increased one, though not accomplished through the 
ordinary channels of sensation. 

A point to be specially noticed here is that a good state 
of feeling can be communicated as readily as one of 
opposite nature. And if we assume that good feelings, 
along with the superstitious ones of awe and fear, are 
thus communicated, we can account for most of the phe- 
nomena of religious conversion without resorting to 
influences from another world. Still, I would not deny 
that, if there be a spirit world, the beings there may 
exert upon persons here the same kind of power that I 
am supposing ourselves to exert upon one another. Re- 
ligious excitements have often been accompanied by 
strange mesmeric and spiritual phenomena, such as the 
dancing manias of the Middle Ages, the wonderful endu- 
rance of the Convulsionaires of St. Medard, the falling in 
trance of the Methodists, with various others in private 
experience, all of which it would not be unreasonable 
to expect among people whose principal dealing is with 
a spirit world and occult influences, and especially when 
those who experience them have no correct knowledge 
of mesmerism, nor any at all of modern Spiritualism, by 
which to understand, and to counteract, prevent, or con- 
trol them. 

A fact more difficult to believe, however, is that the 



SALVATION 365 

communication of feeling here spoken of may take place 
between parties separated by a considerable distance. 
As an instance, I once heard a distinguished temperance 
advocate tell how three women agreed to pray for his 
conversion at a certain hour, and how at that very hour 
he felt the working of the Holy Spirit so powerfully that 
it resulted in his conversion as desired. Many similar 
instances are known, too many I think to be mere coin- 
cidences, and possibly in some cases with the conscious- 
ness of the affected party that some good friend was 
praying or earnestly wishing for his or her conversion at 
that precise time, and who the good friend was. Such 
concentration of thought and earnest desire upon a par- 
ticular one, or even upon a number, by some friend, or 
by a number of good persons, is just the state of mind 
calculated to send out a mesmeric force, and produce the 
effect that actually is produced, and attributed to the 
Holy Ghost. Coming from a number of the best people 
in a church, along with considerable excitement of the 
better impulses of the congregation, and directed upon 
subjects within reach of sight, hearing and touch, it 
ought to be still more effective. 

Here another special point is to be made, namely, 
that when the nature and origin of this occult influence 
is understood, it can be brought to bear upon the unbe- 
liever as readily as upon the believer, either by good 
religious or good unreligious persons. I have one in- 
stance at least, where influences from outside the church 
and ordinary religion produced effects equal to any 
usually produced in revival meetings upon one individ- 
ual. I am not, therefore, speaking beyond knowledge 
when I say that in this respect the church has no power 
that the agnostic, infidel, or atheist may not possess 
equally well. It is moral goodness, goodness of heart, 
/he good spirit, that endows its possessor with the power 
of the Holy Ghost. 



366 CONVERSION AND 



But m the more rational conversion now contemplated 
there will be no occasion for excitement or strange occur- 
rences, although there will necessarily be deep earnest- 
ness. Everything connected with the change will be 
understood, and if the kind of mesmeric force here ex- 
plained to be the Holy Ghost should be brought mto use, 
it will be done consciously and deliberately. Whatever 
belongs to this hitherto mysterious realm is to become a 
matter of science, — -spiritual science if you choose — but 
none the less truly science. 

The facts of religious experience are not to be ignored, 
whatever theory may be taken to explain them. The 
one here given seems to me sufficient ; but if not, the 
fact of an unknown subtle influence still remains, and 
also that under the stimulation of it the affected party 
overcomes a portion of the selfish nature, greater or less, 
and takes a step in moral progress, which may be per- 
manent, or from which he may afterward recede. 

It is this mysterious power of the Holy Ghost, and the 
change it affects, which give to the sincere christian his 
firmest faith in the truth of his doctrine. This influence 
he knows by experience to be a reality. Its effect in a 
greater or less change of feeling and purpose he also 
knows to be real; and as there has been no explanation 
of the facts except the religious one, he infers that be- 
cause this much is true all the rest is according to what 
he is taught. His consciousness of having a satisfied 
conscience, and of being more in union with the Univer- 
sal Good than ever before, convinces him that he is for- 
given, accepted, saved, in agreement with the method 
made and provided. The Bible deals largely with 
spiritual experiences, and in it he reads a confirmation of 
his own, while all is interpreted by one general theory. 
The skeptic knows nothing of his experience, and can 
therefore do very little to change the christian's belief. 
He may point out the absurdities of Christian doctrine 



SALVATION 367 

from one year's end to another ; but the true christian will 
still know that he has a knowledge the infidel has not, and 
will only pity his ignorance in return. The change of 
heart, of will, and of life is to the true convert the vital 
core of the whole religious system, and commands his 
abiding reverence ; whereas, nothing in Materialism or 
Agnosticism can do so to the same extent. Among those 
who have never felt the change rationalism may grow 
and spread ; but upon those who have, its powder is only 
like that of a gentle breeze upon the branches of the 
sturdy oak. 

The believer rejects the criticism of the skeptic for the 
same reason that the skeptic rejects what he considers 
the delusion of the believer. Each party insists that the 
other shall give up what the other knows in order to 
accept what he knows ; and each refuses to do so. It is 
now to be seen what each will do when he finds it 
possible to accept the knowledge of the other without, 
giving up his own. 

But why does any one fall back.? Simply because 
the ignorant and perverted selfish nature is still strong- 
est, and when outside the good mesmeric and other 
influence of superior persons, only waits for the right 
opportunity to reassert itself. A second period of ex- 
citement, or of unusual circumstances, may again con- 
vert the "backslider," and carry him to a higher moral 
plane. At length he may reach a condition in which he 
begins to think of the possibility of holiness, or complete 
escape from the power of sin, — the state of sanctity of 
the Roman Church, and believed in by a considerable 
portion of the Wesleyan Methodist. In all cases how- 
ever, the sanctified person is still under the protecting 
influence of the church, or the spirit world, or both, 
7iever anticipating a time when he can be able to stand 
alone in his innocence, and use his moral power to 
assist others, without being liable to fall from his present 



368 CONVERSION AND 

estate. He still clings to the hand of his Saviour as 
necessary to his safety, and believes that if he succeeds 
with God's help he is doing well. It is God's grace, and 
the consciousness of spiritual presence, that enable him 
to fight the good fight, and he expects no final victory, 
no lasting peace, till he shall reach that happy country 
where temptation will assail hmi no more. I ask 
particular attention to this fact, as I shall interpret it to 
mean that the decisive conflict between the selfish and 
unselfish impulses has never been fought. 

I must now make the assertion, unaccompanied by 
any proof except its own inherent reasonableness, that 
when once the great stronghold of the selfish man has 
'been conquered, his peculiar besetting sin, his dearest 
indulgence, his ruling passion, that which he loves best 
of anything except continued existence, — when this is 
given up, sacrificed and cast out, the victor feels con- 
scious of being victor over all the rest, and knows by 
what he has done what he can do again with smaller 
effort. He knows it is the most vital point of his sel- 
fishness (of his unregenerate affections) that has been 
taken possession of, that his work is done deliberately 
after full conviction of the guilt, sin, injustice, meanness, 
of the former life ; while his present consciousness of a 
happier state, and his certainty of having done a wise 
thing, still further assure him that his liability to fall 
back is past forever. Having gained a consciousness of 
superior happiness, and greater power of self control, he 
cannot voluntarily return to the inferior condition, or 
even be returned to it by any provocation, except for 
the moment. Suffering the step has cost him, a terrible 
agony it may be, but that is subsiding, and a degree 
and kind of happiness never more than partially known 
before has taken its place, and the new satisfaction 
overbalances all it has cost. 

His work is far from finished, but in a comparative 



SALVATION 369 

sense he is at peace. The great struggle of his whole 
existence being fought and won, what remains will be 
but shorter and easier ones of a similar kind. He re- 
news the combat against his weaker enemies knowing 
he is able to vanquish each and all of them. Though 
not wholly at peace he is able to rest, conscious of being 
accepted by the God in all good souls, and of being 
united with them in a sympathy and a brotherhood that 
can never be broken. 

I speak of it in ordinary language, in the soberness of 
science, well knowing that an enthusiasm, not noisy 
but deep, is a sure attendant upon the change. 

That the church has never produced this radical change 
in any considerable number of people is indicated by 
the fact that it has never, even in its own headquarters,, 
drawn together any group of such persons into an un- 
selfish community, having some resemblance to the 
imagined Kingdom of Heaven ; though all their inclina- 
tions and sympathies must impel them toward each, 
other, and dispose them to give the world an example 
of heavenly life. The best men of the church have been 
engaged in missionary work, but these have done no- 
differently in this respect from the rest. The nearest; 
approach to the life of the Pentecostal time has been 
made by those new Protestant sects who have founded, 
small societies, with industrial arrangements more or 
less communistic, and a state (;f general equality and 
sympathy most resembling brotherhood. But these 
have all felt obliged to isolate themselves from the great, 
world of humanity, not being able otherwise to escape 
its contamination. Nevertheless they are slowly dying- 
out ; not one, I think, has vitality enough to hold its. 
own and make progress. 

And yet, all the various brotherhoods and sisterhoods,, 
monasteries, societies and communities that have ex- 
isted, at all times and in all civilized regions, especially 



370 CONVERSION AND 

in all Christian lands, are but so many evidences that a 
perfect society- is universally felt to be the appropriate 
outcome from true religion ; and that the most religious 
people in every age and country instinctively try to 
realize some approximation toward that ideal state. 
The ancient political thmkers like Moses, Lycurgus and 
Plato, aimed at the same result, as did also the socialistic 
ones of modern times. 

Let us inquire vv^hy it is that the Christian church, and 
the older. religions, have never been able to effect such a 
thorough change in men's hearts as would enable them 
to inaugurate a kingdom of heaven in the centers of 
religious influence, — to plant a germ of new society so 
vital it would live and grow in spite of worldly opposi- 
tion, uniting all hearts within itself so strongly they 
could not be separated. Why is the improvement of 
Christian society so slow ; why so much sin and misery 
in Christian communities ; and why is the Christian 
himself so little different from his irreligious neighbors ? 

The Christian has his answer ready, — the depravity of 
the human heart, the difference of God's ways and man's 
ways, the counterfoil of the devil's power, and so on ; 
but mine is an entirely different one and is this. It is be- 
cause the church has never possessed a true philosophy, 
a true understanding of human origin and nature, a true 
science of society. It was impossible that she could 
have ; and for want of such knowledge she has never 
been able to preach a iliorough conviction of sin, to 
effect a whole-hearted repentance, and secure a complete 
salvation. Holding free-will as a part of the theological 
scheme, necessary to justify man's condemnation, she 
could never inculcate the ideas that produce a true un- 
selfish humility ; never could show the equality of human 
souls, even in a comparative sense or at any time, never 
could banish the remains of pride, conceit and self-right- 



SALVATION 3/1 

eousness from those disposed to be humble. Never 
teaching that belief depends on knowledge instead of 
choice, and hence that honesty in thought was a virtue, 
she has allowed humanity to indulge and foster its preju- 
dices and hatreds against all who ventured to think 
unlike the way of the majority ; and in consequence she 
for long centuries filled the earth with the blood of perse- 
cution, and still justifies unfriendliness, bigotry, contempt 
between those who differ over a petty detail of worthless 
doctrine. For want of social science she repudiated the 
example of Jesus and the early disciples, adopted all the 
institutions and customs of a selfish society, and accepted 
the gifts of the wealthy and tyrannical, till her priests 
and teachers themselves became addicted to luxury, 
anxious for wealth, and indifferent to the object of true 
religion. She had no truth by which she could convict 
the rich man of his injustice, or support the poor one in 
his efforts to obtain the means of comfort and improve- 
ment. On the contrary she taught the poor to be content 
in their poverty, ignorance, and helplessness, and re- 
quired of the rich only a dole of charity instead of justice. 
With her false and base conception of human nature she 
had no respect for it, but degrading all the passions con- 
nected with the body, she made love a vile thing, dis- 
carded it for her priesthood, and insisted that young men 
and women who had made a wrong choice in marriage 
should live out lives of sm and misery without hope of 
separation, compelling children to be generated in wick- 
edness, and to grow up in an amosphere of discord, thus 
producing more tendency to evil than all her good influ- 
ences could correct. Quarrelsomeness, jealousies, re- 
venges, and heartburnings of all kinds she could not pre- 
vent or reconcile, because she had no doctrine by which 
to point out the injustice of each party, nor did she teach 
the duty of submitting without anger to the criticism of 
the injured, and of removing the cause of it without delay. 



372 CONVERSION AND 

Last, but far from least, for want of a rational con- 
ception of the purpose of repentance and conversion, 
she has directed it mainly toward a far-off, inconceivable 
deity, whom the sins of man could not injure, and 
failed to show the sinner that his wrong-doing- was 
against his fellow men and women, that the forgiveness 
he was to seek must be their forgiveness, and that with- 
out this no atonement could possibly be made, no final 
peace or happiness could be obtained. 

To crown all her shortcomings, and render her infirm- 
ities perpetual, she set up the priest and his holy book 
as authorities not to be questioned, whose wisdom was 
to be sufficient for all the needs of human life. Then 
she taught her children to learn nothing further, to 
stultify their brains, stifle all reasoning, and become the 
stupid slaves of the Book and its Interpreter. For all 
this, with all her other faults she deserves — not immedi- 
ately to die, but, like some harsh old mother, to be 
patiently shown the error of her ways, and gently set 
aside to give such care and teaching as she can to some 
of the youngest and weakest members of the race, till in 
process of time she becomes entirely superannuated, and 
her charges able to receive, from more trustworthy 
teachers, a higher grade of instruction. 

What I have said is mostly true of all other religions 
as well as the Christian ; but keeping the latter still in 
mind, the reasons given seem to me to account for 
its failure to fully change the human heart and accom- 
plish the purposes desired. Without rationality, without 
science, without being purified from all superstition, the 
church can only labor on as it has done, blindly and 
feebly, with no substantial improvement over the suc- 
cess of the past. It is not enough even to cast out 
superstition, or the greater part of it, as a few of the 
most progressive sects are domg; there must be an 
active practical effort to abolish injustice, by such a 



SALVATION 373 

revolutionary reform as will put all institutions on a 
basis of justice, and make the whole operation of society 
tend toward equality instead of inequality. 

To make still clearer the difference between the conver- 
sion here meant and the ordinary conversion of the 
church, let them be contrasted a little more in detail. 
The conversion of the Christian is a less difficult thing. 
To believe that old Adam's transgression was the cause 
of ours, and that Jesus Christ made atonement for all of 
it, is less repulsive to the selfish heart than to think that 
we ourselves are responsible for it, that no other person 
can relieve us of the consequences to the least extent, 
and that we must inevitably suffer, till by our own 
efforts, aided perhaps by some kind soul, we are able to 
right every wrong in the spirit of true contrition and 
humbleness. But this more repulsive truth is precisely 
what we must come to accept. To ask forgiveness of a 
mighty deity, so much above us that we are really 
almost nothing, does not humiliate the selfish pride as 
it does to confess our villainy, our cruelty, our extortion 
and robbery, our treachery, our abuse of those who 
never injured us, our pettiness, our vile meanness of 
whatever kind it may be, to the victim of it, who is no 
greater than, and perhaps inferior to, ourselves ; asking 
forgiveness of him or her with a full consciousness of 
how mean, how cruel, how unjust we have been, and 
knowing that the other party has looked upon us in the 
same light. This is what will try the soul. But this is 
what must be done, and done with every one we have 
ever wronged in deed or in purpose, before a full pardon 
can be obtained, before full peace of mind can be se- 
cured. Not only must pardon be sought, but whatever 
wrong can be righted by making compensation, by re- 
tracting false statements or impressions, by giving up 
what is not ours by the law of pure justice, by making 
satisfaction in any way that remains possible, and in 



374 CONVERSION AND 

accepting criticism to learn what that way is, must be 
so righted. The consciousness of guilt that does not 
feel the duty and the necessity of doing this is no true 
conviction of sin ; the sinner who cannot do this has not 
yet repented to the bottom of his heart, and is not yet 
sure of his salvation. No other proof of the change can 
take the place of this. Yet how often is it ever required 
by the church ? How many instances can any one tell 
that he or she has known ? 

The consideration of duty to God is to be understood 
as held in abeyance, if one duty is to be set against 
another. The ordinary christian, especially in the be- 
ginning of his new course, puts his duty to God so far 
above every other consideration that he forgets his duty 
to human beings ; and though it seems a strange thing 
to be said, yet the fact appears to be that when they 
have attended to the former duty, the majority of church 
people consider that nothing more is required. If im- 
pelled by benevolence to do anything for the neighbor, 
it is to preach to him the necessity of saving his soul, 
according to the cheap and easy plan of having all his 
sins expiated by one who was never guilty, leaving to 
him only the duty of gratefully accepting the arrange- 
ment. The serious work of making restitution for all 
wrong-doing is seldom entered upon for oneself, or even 
urged upon others, a much easier task. 

But the demand made by a full conversion is just the 
opposite. If a man believes in a personal deity, to 
whom he owes a certain duty, let him perform it without 
fail ; but I venture to say to him in all seriousness that 
God can wait without suffering ; whereas, human beings 
suffer constantly, in one way or another, from the effects 
of wrong done by others, and every moment they are 
made to wait for reparation is an addition to the original 
injustice. ^Moreover, the God who does not require the 
correction of this wrono^, as the first dutv of the con- 



•t>' 



SALVATION 375 

victed sinner, is no true God; and such a conception of 
him as allows neglect or postponement shows a sad 
lack of true conceptions of justice. A just God can 
never forgive till all the sinner's offences against his 
brother man have been forgiven, and washed out of the 
memory of the injured; then the offender will be likely 
to find himself at peace with God.* 

The peculiar trial of one's faith and conscience will 
come in various ways, no doubt, as it already does in the 
partial conversions of the church. With some the spe- 
cial form of selfishness that is deepest rooted in the heart 
may be ambition ; with others the greed for wealth ; 
with others still a selfish love for some man or woman 
who has no inducement to return it ; with many it will 
be the pride that refuses to see, or when seen refuses to 
acknowledge and correct, the wrong committed against 
some man, woman, or child. With yet others it may be 
the bigotry and self-righteousness that obstinately shuts 
the intellect against all views of truth but the one, or 
uncharitably declines to believe any good of those out- 
side the one sect, party, or race. Whichever of these it 
may be, it will be the one thing more difficult to sur- 
render, or to perform, than any other. Not, however, 
that it will necessarily be in all cases so very difficult 
absolutely. In persons whose education, habits, and 
course of life have not engendered strong impulsions or 
tendencies, whose minds are comparatively balanced, it 
ma] for aught I can see be relatively easy. Young men 
and women entering upop life's work, with serious 
minds not obstinately fixed upon certain notions, nor 
grown depraved by a career of vicious habits and unjust 
practices, seem to me not unpromising subjects for this 



* In speaking of God I use the word in various senses, most commonly the one 
attached to it by the church, and do not see how I could well do otherwise. My 
own conceptions of deity, however, will be found in the chapter on that subject. 



3/6 CONVERSION AND 

■discipline. Children, born with no unusual adaptations 
to evil, and with good capacities for the higher kinds of 
instruction, could probably be educated into the fully 
unselfish state of mind by the time they entered the 
state of mature manhood and womanhood. This is the 
time when Nature herself seems to make an effort to 
perfect them morally as well as physically; the time 
when women are more amiable and lovely, and men 
more generous and heroic than most of them ever are in 
later years. It is the time when they get their first 
strong impulse toward good and noble things ; and with 
wiser teaching might in many cases be able to reach the 
moral grade corresponding to the physical. At least I 
know of but one reason why they cannot. That is the 
old, old reason that men will not learn until they must; 
that they must travel through purgatory to reach heaven ; 
must be broken to pieces by suffering before they can be 
molded anew ; must be purified of the uncleanness of 
depraved nature by repeated sorrows and torments ; 
must be subjected to God's will by the disappointment 
of all their own ambitions, hopes and plans ; till when 
utterly defeated, and crushed into lifeless nothingness 
and despair, they submit to be regenerated, or remade 
into the likeness of the ideal perfect man and Savior, 
fit for the Kingdom of God. The necessity for such 
crucifixion of the soul is taught by all religions, old and 
new. None can escape it but the child and youth ; and 
the youth, educated in the existing school of religion, is 
likely to be perverse, and to insist upon living a selfish 
or unconscientious life, refusing to believe the warnings 
of Religion, or what is more strictly true, refusing to 
give up the full measure of worldly enjoyments, which 
religio:', even the most liberal, insists must be given up 
to some extent. The spiritual and material satisfactions 
have been placed in antagonism, and the animal nature, 
not willingly submitting to die, has had to be crushed 



SALVATION 377 

•down, and more or less destroyed, in order that the 
higher one might be developed. 

The conflict is a feature in human history that could 
not have been avoided. It is made necessary by the 
lack of sufficient knowledge, forethought, and self-control 
in the masses of the race during its immature stage. 
The belief in natural depravity and other doctrines, orig- 
inating in the ancient East, has served to maintain it for 
ages, and will continue it for a good while to come, 
aided by the actual moral condition of humanity. For, 
the highest truth can come only with a good degree of the 
unselfish spirit ; the two things assist each other in their 
development; and the unjust character that could wil- 
lingly believe a discipline of torment to be necessary, was 
accompanied by the delusive theories that demanded it. 
Thus it is that religion has always been associated with 
asceticism, and the saint or holy man has been a recluse, 
tyrannizing over the body, depriving it of its natural 
wants, or torturing it, to kill out all the instincts and 
appetites that belong to its healthy state. The modern 
Christian saint however, practices self-denial but little to 
what his ancestors did, and in the future will do so still 
less. With the progress of intelligence the wants of the 
body and soul will come to be better harmonized, and in 
time asceticism will cease to stand in the way of the 
unperverted desires of the young. Then, with a different 
education, it may be possible to make philosophers at the 
age of twenty years, and not difficult to effect the entire 
change of moral character at a similar age. 

To prevent all misunderstanding however, it is proba- 
bly necessary for me to repeat in plain language, what is 
already implied, that no one has a right to drink wine, 
for instance, till he has proved his ability to do without 
it, and to take it only as conscience allows, that is, for its 
proper uses, not for pleasure alone. And the same pre- 
scription is correct in regard to all other gratifications o f 



3/8 CONVERSION AND 

the senses ; use for a definite good purpose to be accom- 
plished, must be the predominant motive ; pleasure the 
reward for such a wise and conscientious use, but never 
the primary object. 

It is not merely sensual pleasure that is thus igno- 
rantly placed in antagonism with religion. All the feel- 
ings associated with worldly enjoyment, including even 
the social and family affections, are assumed to act in 
opposition to God's will ; and all the disappointment of 
them, with the consequent fearful suffering, is represented 
by modern religion as so much discipline to prepare the 
human subject for heaven. This, in the view of things I 
am setting forth, is mostly pure superstition. A large 
part of human suffering of every kind is due to selfishness 
of motive and conduct, and such suffering, when re- 
garded as natural punishment, has an effect in improving 
the character. It is that dear school of experience said to 
be necessary for those who can learn in no other, and is 
the primitive teaching of the whole race. Another install- 
ment of misery comes simply from ignorance, without 
any wrong motive ; while still another portion results 
from the wrong-doing of others — of individuals and so- 
ciety — and for which, in pure justice, the perpetrators, 
not the victims, are to blame. The teaching of the priest 
that all of this, without distinction, is under the superin- 
tendence of a personal deity, a benevolent despot or a 
cruel one as you prefer, is calculated to prevent or retard 
all improvement of the social condition, and the acquire- 
ment of that useful knowledge necessary to guard against 
every kind of ill success, accident, failure, and despair. 
It is one way in which religion has shown its weak or 
evil side. 

The present generation of young people, already 
partially or v/holly educated into the false habits, wants, 
tastes and whims of a selfish society, will probably 
follow the course entered upon till an . experience of 



SALVATION 379 

defeat, failure, disappointment, shall have somewhat 
broken down the willful selfishness, and aroused the 
indolent thought, before they will be prepared to learn 
wisdom and accept righteousness. With those whom a 
longer life has confirmed in selfish practices, or made 
strong in selfish ambitions, there will be still more to 
counteract and overcome through the intellect, and 
stronger resistance from the lower feelings; so that it is 
hardly possible they can be radically changed without 
a great deal of suffering, as the primary inducement to 
make the effort required. Under the education received 
they have become like a tree that has grown warped, 
deformed, and straggling, needing to be straightened up, 
pruned into shape, and perhaps replanted into better 
conditions, before it will mature and bear fruit. With 
such an education as will sometime -be given they would 
be like the tree set at first in its proper place, and 
trimmed when young into its best form, requiring little 
attention afterward to grow into a thing of permanent 
beauty and use. 

But the same means that can prevent the child from 
taking on bad habits and practices can make it easier 
for the adult man or woman to cast them off. The more 
clearly a possible reconciliation of the natural man and 
the spiritual, of the individual with society, of a true 
normal worldliness with morality and religion, can be 
demonstrated ; and the more people can be taught to 
understand of the superior happiness belonging to the 
superior state ; the more readily will the old be aban- 
doned for the new, and the less will be the suffering 
connected with the change. It is a wiser teaching, and a 
deeper intellectual perception in the taught, that are to 
be the means of its accomplishment. 

Nevertheless, practically, it will be impossible to escape 
a certain amount of pain ; and as already said, this will 
center upon the point where the selfish personal desires 



380 CONVERSION AND 

cling with the most intense force. In the present gener- 
ation there may be in many cases a trial that will involve 
a sacrifice of what is dearest of all except continued 
existence. The struggle will arise from newer and 
clearer perceptions of what is right and wrong, in other 
words, from higher ideals of what life should be for all, 
and of what our own conduct should be in view of such 
standards ; followed by a necessary conviction of present 
wrong-doing, and an aspiration for the higher, purer, 
happier condition that is to come from sincere repentance. 

If it be desired to know further who are most, and who 
least susceptible of this radical change, there is one test 
that appears almost absolute in its certainty. This is the 
existence of a thoughtfulness regarding the happiness of 
others, for the good indication ; and for the opposite a 
feeling of cruelty, heartlessness, or indifference to the 
suffering of other conscious beings, human or animal, 
which is the index of the very lowest human state. 
Kindness and cruelty are the poles of moral feeling; and 
whoever exhibits the most of either, separate from affection 
or interest, and regardless of belief, seems to me the 
nearest to or farthest from the possibility of salvation. 

Here it may be well to refer to that late Eastern move- 
ment known as Theosophy or Occultism. Do I mean to 
prescribe all the hardship and trial that is hinted at in Oc- 
cultist books as indispensable to the reaching of the 
highest condition ? No, most certainly not. The highest 
state aimed at by the theosophist is, almost certainly, an 
Oriental conception of what is here called the Kingdom 
of the Unselfish. But the manner of arriving at it, like 
all other Oriental plans of salvation, involves asceticism ; 
and the soul when saved is only a one-sided soul, the less 
human part being left behind. The asceticism may not 
be the most severe, but the prohibition of wine and the 
injunction of celibacy, which according to such informa- 
tion as I have gained are two of the requirements, show 



SALVATION 381 

the spirit of the method adopted. With only this much, 
however, the theosophist, I believe, retards, instead of 
aiding, the development he seeks, if it is really moral 
strength, and not mere occult spirit power. In the view 
here advocated asceticism of any kind is needless, and 
occult power, whatever there is of it, is more likely to be 
obtained after the Unselfish Stage is reached, when it can 
be wisely used. In regard to ascetic self-denial then, the 
present scheme demands less ; though as to the abandon- 
ment of the selfish life nothing can be more thorough. 

It should also be well understood, if not sufficiently 
implied already, that the mental state here contemplated 
does not depend on the cultivation of spiritual senses, 
or mediumistic faculties of any description. Such ac- 
quirements may be valuable when we have become 
able to reduce the knowledge of them to a science ; but 
they are not necessary to the attainment of the Unselfish 
Condition ; and so far as I have observed, the persons 
who most readily exhibit those occult faculties are not 
the ones most likely to manifest the reasoning power, so 
closely connected with unselfishness. 

No more necessary is the belief in a spiritualist phil- 
osophy. Not only is the old religious and spiritualistic 
teaching of the sort adapted to the immature mind, but 
further, the discipline and culture required by it, espe- 
cially all that is meditative, dreamy, and occult, seems 
like an effort to reverse the natural progress of intellect- 
ual growth, and reduce the adult back into the mental 
condition of the child. 

To restate now a few points, some of them already 
repeated, the conversion here discussed, as distinguished 
from the ordinary conversion of religion, is a crisis 
period in a whole course of moral development, a time 
when the strongest desire of the selfish nature, the 
ruling passion, the central and most vital point, the tap 



382 CONVERSION AND 

root of its whole growth, is reached and destroyed, 
conquered and cast out ; not by destroying or suppress- 
ing any part of the human mental constitution, but by 
destroying its liability to perverted action, and turning 
it instead to good and happifying uses. It is a change 
which carries the subject of it into an ideal better and 
wiser condition, where all his motives, thoughts, words 
and acts are dominated by unselfishness and a consci- 
entious purpose. It may come on through meditation, 
induced by various considerations and circumstances, 
or, like the conversion of religious excitement, may be 
prompted by a mesmeric influence proceeding from 
certain good people, friends or others who may have a 
benevolent interest in the party acted upon. This, 
which Superstition calls ''the saving power of the Holy 
Ghost," may in some cases be felt very distinctly and 
have a marked effect. Any one may exercise it who 
possesses within himself a sufficient degree of the un- 
selfish character, by which it is generated and from 
which it outflows. 

The passage through this crisis, severe to many, but 
not necessarily severe to those who have been prepared 
for it, and the entrance upon the stage beyond, is what 
constitutes salvation. But salvation is not salvation 
"from all sin or wrong-doing ; it is salvation from the 
power of sin, and from the power of the selfish disposi- 
tion. No one can be so perfect he cannot do wrong by 
mis^-ake or want of thought ; but the peculiarity of this 
condition is that he cannot do wrong by design, and that 
he can repent, and seek to right the wrong of which he 
has been guilty. In repenting he seeks pardon, not of 
God, but of the person injured. If he has a personal 
deity there is certainly nothing to prevent asking for- 
giveness of him also. Then, having already conquered 
his strongest disposition to evil, he is thereafter able to 
master that and every other, and to make rapid progress 



SALVATION 383 

toward that state where even involuntary sin will be of 
rare occurrence, and only venial in character. For, be 
it observed, this person has sacrificed pride, and is wil- 
ling to accept criticism or ask advice in order to guard 
against wrong-doing. His willingness to learn the right 
is as marked as the willingness to do. 

Moreover, this person who has passed from the power 
of sin by conquering it in its strong-hold is for ever after 
capable of standing alone. He is not dependent on the 
presence of the Holy Spirit, on the study of sacred books, 
or on the influence of the church ; though all of these 
may at times be of service to him. From being depend- 
ent on a source of grace outside himself, he becomes 
himself a perpetual fountain of good influence to others. 
He is not fearful of being contaminated by the company 
of sinners, but is able to take hold and lift them up with- 
out being dragged down himself in so doing. He is able 
to resist the whole world of evil by virtue of having 
already vanquished, within himself, all that it can bring 
against him. His conviction of the unwisdom of all 
selfishness for himself is as strong as his hatred of it in 
others. His moral state has become organic, a part of 
his constitution, which he can no more lose than the 
full-grown man can become a child. He is radically 
and completely saved — saved from ever again coming 
under the dominion of evil, and therefore capable of 
securing for himself all the happiness of such a superior 
development. 

With this clear understanding of what the change is 
that determines the future happiness of a soul, a few 
words may be said concerning those religious develop- 
ments that most resemble it in the past, and of which we 
have become able to form a better judgment. 

Something similar there has been, a condition near 
enough like it to give a crude conception of the nature 



384 CONVERSION AND 

of the feeling involved, and of the extent, degree, or 
comprehensiveness of the change; this conception ex 
hibitmg various degrees of imperfection at various times 
and places during the w^orld's history. As according to 
the view here taken the condition is a natural product 
of evolution, it is but natural w^e should find the germs- 
of it existing, with more or less of immature growth, . 
and prophecies of a completer growth to be attained 111 
future. In a few rare and isolated instances there may- 
have been a close approach to it. But that a clear, full, 
and comprehensive idea of it was never arrived at I 
am fully satisfied, for the reasons before given, and es- 
pecially the fact that no vital, germinating points of a 
society, such as persons in this state would form, have 
ever existed. 

One of the first of these imperfect conceptions of it 
may possibly be found in the absorption into Brahm of 
the ancient (and present) Vedanta system of Hindoo 
theology and philosophy. Its imperfection consists in 
the selfishness which looks upon it as the salvation of 
the individual, to be accomplished through meditatioa 
and asceticism, comparatively regardless of unselfish, 
work to be done for others. The union with deity 
contemplated is somewhat like the feeling of a lost or 
wayward child restored to its father, and who, in its 
reconcilation to him, with expectation of being a favorite, 
is really devoted and means to be good to him, but has 
little design of being good to any one else. 

The Nirwana of Buddhism, the final complete union 
of perfected souls, was another such incomplete idea of 
the state, to be reached partly through asceticism like 
the first, but unlike that, by a large degree of genuine 
benevolence in feeling and action. This feature, illus- 
trated by the immense missionary work which has 
spread the Buddhist religion among more than half of 
the earth s population, marks its superiority to that of 



SALVATION 385 

the Brahmin, by necessarily making it a union of more 
unselfish natures. 

Whether the old Persians had a similar idea, to which 
a definite name was given, I am unable to say. The 
Paradise of Zoroaster was to be gained, not by asceti- 
cism or meditation, nor even by benevolence; but by 
active effort ; by fighting long and faithfully on the side 
of Ormuzd against Ahriman, or of justice and right against 
wrong. This, it may fairly be contended, is a higher 
grade, if not of religion at least of morality, than either 
of the others ; and its unselfishness is further proved by 
its associating with itself the final triumph of the good, 
and conquest of the whole world to righteousness, when 
even Ahriman himself shall be saved. The better minds 
among this people aspired to be ''pure in thought, in 
word, and in deed; "and it is not improbable some of 
them may have believed they had actually attained to 
such a state of purity — a purely conscientious state, not 
inferior to that of Nirwana, and in which there would 
exist a high degree of harmony. 

Our modern Theosophists inform us, with much reason 
for the statement, that the "descent of the Spirit," the 
''incarnation of God in man" was a belief held and 
taught by the comprehending few, in ancient Egypt, and 
over all the civilized parts of Asia, at the same time. 
What this really meant could only be the acquirement by 
man of a godlike spirit, the raising of the human till it be- 
came divine. 

This may likewise be the forgotten meaning of the 
Sabbath, in the Hebrew Story of Creation, assuming that 
story to be allegorical, and to have reference only to spir- 
itual creations or changes. 

Was it also what was meant by Jesus when he talked 
of the Kingdom of Heaven ? I cannot answer. The 
record of his utterances is too confused, and too much 
corrupted by fraud, for me to decide what they meant, or 



386 CONVERSION AND 

what they really were. The larger part of them can be 
given that interpretation. The Essenes possessed the 
most unselfish society of the ancient times ; and if Jesus 
had been one of their body, as some believe, it seems 
probable that this condition was the object of his view. 
If he was their ideal man only, and not an actual person 
at all, as some others have hinted, it still appears likely 
that an imperfect idea of it existed among some of their 
number. That some of the best spirits among those who 
have called themselves his disciples have had such a con- 
ception I have no doubt. St. Paul's description of Charity 
is a description of the unselfish character; and certain 
things written in the first epistle of John, in the New 
Testament, indicate that the writer had probably made 
as near an approach to the unselfish state as was possible, 
under the intellectual conditions of his time. 

The Gnostics, of a little later period, conceived it 
more perfectly perhaps than any before them ; for they 
claimed to teach the Knowledge of God, and the Liberty 
of the Spirit, two things that can be fully understood only 
by coming fully into the Unselfish Condition. The Unity 
with God of the old Mystics and the Neo-Platonists was 
still another instance of belief in the possibility of a 
much higher than the ordinary human state, and of ef- 
forts to attain it through spiritual agencies. One or two 
of the Christian sects that started into life during the 
middle ages may have had a dim idea of this con- 
dition, but mixed with so much error that they became 
notorious only for folly and indecency. The early Alche- 
mists, for aught I know, may have been striving to 
transm.ute the base metals of selfishness into the pure 
gold of unselfishness, and teaching the few more capa- 
ble ones under the guise of allegory. The condition 
was sought by Fenelon, Molinos and other Roman 
Catholic saints, under the name of Perfect Love or of 
Quietism ; still later by the Wesleyan Methodists as 



SALVATION 387 

Holiness ; and last of all by another Protestant sect as 
Perfectionism. As complete a view of it as any was that 
possessed by Emanuel Swedenborg, which he called the 
Celestial State. It is the true "peace of God that passeth 
understanding " to all but the few who have experienced 
it, though often talked of much by those who have felt 
a mere breath of its celestial influence, in times of relig- 
ious excitement. It is the true Illumination by which 
spiritual things are discerned, the true Gnosis by which 
we know both God and ourselves. 

With none of these parties, I must repeat, was the 
ideal perfect, or the state sought for completely attained. 
The reason I have already once given in explaining the 
failure of the Christian church, and of all religions, to 
prepare men for it. It is that they lacked the knowl- 
edge that science and modern thought have given to the 
present age. They had no philosophy able to harmo- 
nize thought and make it equal to the truth. Without 
these aids they could do no more or better than they did. 
It remains for us, with our richer resources, to accom- 
plish what they could not. They had dim visions of the 
pure ideal ; they made out some of its outlines ; they 
attempted, in their imperfect way, to realize this im- 
perfect ideal, among imperfect men, and failed. As with 
other and minor good things,^ the germs of it are in the 
past, the full growth and fruition in the future. 

Is it necessary for me to speak of the happiness 
belonging to this new state further than is already 
expressed in previous chapters ? Has not every en- 
thusiastic religionist and socialist protrayed some of its 
glories as they appeared to him ? Do not all of us imag- 
ine some rare perfection this world of ours is to take on 
at some distant future time? Certainly all whoever think 
much have done so. To these fancyings I have only to 



388 CONVERSION AND 

add what is to me one of the very firmest of all convic- 
tions, that all the good and happy things that both these 
parties have believed to be possible of obtainment are 
possible ; not separately but together ; not the spiritual 
without the material, nor the sensual without those of 
the spirit ; but both combined and harmonized, recon- 
ciled and united. to each other in eternal peace. All 
that can give pleasure, either of a high order or a low 
one, belongs to the Kingdom of the Unselfish or Empire 
of the Wise. Nothing low in the sense which the drunk- 
ard, the glutton or the libertine understands ; for not one 
of these ever conceived of the meaning now in view. 
It is that every organ of the physical frame will be seen 
to have a noble use ; every function that gives sensual 
enjoyment a wise purpose; everything pertaining to the 
body will become holy ; all will have a sacredness and 
value now unknown ; for its instincts, appetites and 
capacities, when enlightened and moralized, controlled 
by high motives, and directed only in conscientious 
ways, will be found to possess powers of life, health and 
happiness unsuspected so long as devoted only to sel- 
fish enjoyment, or looked upon as by nature impure and 
unholy. ** There is no end to the evolution of enjoy- 
ments in our progress toward God" (or in God) ^* when 
once it has become safe for us to trust ourselves."* 



If a soul depart 



Instructed — knowing itself — and knowing truth. 
And how that Brahma and the Self are One — 
Then hath it freedom over all the worlds. 
And if it wills the region of the Past, 
The Fathers and the Mothers of the Past 
Come to receive it ; and that Soul is glad ! 
And if it wills the region of the Homes, 
The Brothers and the Sisters of the Homes 
Come to receive it ; and that Soul is glad ! 
And if it wiUs the region of the Friends, 
The Well-beloved come to welcome it 
"With love undying ; and that Soul is glad ! 
And if it wills a world of grace and peace, 
Where garlands are, and perfumes and delights 
Of delicate meats and drinks, music and song, 
liO ! fragrances and blossoms, and delights 
Of dainty banquets, and the streams of song 
Come to perfect it ; and that Soul is glad ! 
And if it make its bliss in beauty's arms. 



SALVATION 389 

The moral satisfactions of a higher life have been 
described by many persons, and every one is supposed 
to be familiar with such descriptions ; though the reality 
of their truth can be known only when the experience 
gives it. The conflict with the world and endurance of 
its persecutions, which is the counterpoise of spiritual 
enjoyments, has been portrayed in too strong a light to 
remain true of the unselfish condition ; for that state im- 
plies, not a conflict with the real world, but with the false 
one created by selfishness, ignorance, and sin. The 
real human nature needs enlightenment more than resist- 
ance, comprehension more than abuse. The unselfish- 
ness of spirit that can meet the world with candor and 
justice will meet far less of its ill-will than did the saints 
of old. 

For the positive part there will be a sympathy, a har- 
mony, a unity with all good beings, whatever they may 
be called or wherever they dwell, with the better part of 
every human soul, and with the universal good as mani- 
fested m all high motive and true endeavor. The peace 
of God and the peace with man will not be separated. 
If there shall be misunderstanding, suspicion, dislike, 
slander and reviling from the world of less fortunate hu- 
manity, there will also be abundant charity with which 
to neutralize its bitterness ; while the perpetual satisfac- 
tion, and the continually increasing joys, of this bright 
new world, wherein no serious discord can remain, will 
much more than compensate for all disagreement with 
the old. For a new world it truly will be, — so new, so 
changed, so unlike the past that one may even wish to 
change his name, to forget his history, to deny his 
former opinions, to throw away nearly all his previous 



Finding most wonder, most release, most rest. 

On the soft bosoms of the Maids of Heaven, 

Lo ! The bright Maids of Heaven— more loving-sweet 

Thau loveliest earthly beauty — come to him, 

Rejoiced — rejoicing I and that Soul is glad ! " 

From '• The Secret of Death," by Edwin Arnold. 



390 CONVERSION AND 

mental possessions, and baptize himself outwardly and 
inwardly with the pure waters of a new fountain of life. 
Wealth, ambition, power, fame, of the old and selfish 
order, w^ill be as nothing against the new ambitions, and 
the spiritual wealth of the higher state. There can be 
no temptation to go backward. And as the incomer to 
this new state may desire to leave his past behind him, 
so his associates will be willing to do the same. Good- 
ness will be remembered ; the imperfection of one's life 
will not be perpetually talked of. Friendship will need 
no cultivation ; brotherly love will be a genuine thing ; 
because no one can be untrue, no trust can be betrayed, 
no confidence can result in any harm. A spiritual kin- 
ship, more binding than any ties of blood or race, will 
take the place of all previous obligations. The goodness 
and wisdom apparent in each individual will be the su- 
perior attractive power to those who love such qualities ; 
and their warmth and light, shining through the coun- 
tenance, will prevent even the plainest face from being 
unlovely. Sincerity and frankness must be perpetual 
where there is no necessity for deceit or dissimulation. 

When all work together for good there will be no loss 
of effort, no misspent energy ; all will go to increase the 
common sum of happiness ; and how much this means 
may be imagined when we observe how freely it is now 
wasted in foolish efforts to take from one another, or to 
enjoy in a life of selfish individualism. 

Here then, is sufficient ground of appeal, both to the 
rationalist, who cannot understand the mysteries of 
religion, and to the religionist, who dare not be rational 
for fear of losing his faith. The Intuition, when it at- 
tempts to build a philosophy, assumes the work of the 
Understanding and fails. Its highest function is the 
prophecy born of aspirational feeling, and to be realized 
through the understanding. By its mistake it has kept 



SALVATION 391 

up a perpetual warfare between the two sides of human 
nature, elevating- one, and degrading the other without 
cause. For, be it again said, it is not the spirit or the 
body that is holy or unholy, but the motive by which 
they are animated or controlled. It is not the body that 
is to be abhorred, but the ignorant selfishness which 
dominates both body and soul. It is not spirituality 
that is to be desired, but the wise unselfishness which 
can turn everything in body and soul to a sanctified and 
beneficent use. At last the point of misunderstanding- 
can be made plain, and the two mental factors can 
be united without harm to either. The intuition can 
prophecy, and all that it imagines in its brighest dreams 
the understanding can bring forth into reality. 




1^* 



CHAPTER XVII. 

ARTOSITY AND ART. 



THOUGH the above terms must be defined in the 
sense here given to them, it is not necessary for 
my purpose to enter upon any very extended discussion 
of the nature of Art, or the definition of Beauty, subjects 
that have been already discussed by many distinguished 
minds without coming to a definite agreement. A certain 
proportion of the artistic world will unite with me in con- 
sidering Art to be perfect work, — ^function skillfully per- 
formed, purpose effectively and gracefully carried out. 
Whether the work accomplished produces a building, a 
statue, a picture, a song, an oration, apiece of diplomacy, 
a business operation, a manufactured article, or a con- 
struction of any sort whatever, matters not. Even 
destructive work may be artistic, may be easily, grace- 
fully and effectually done, when set about in the right 
manner. And thus everything we do, say, or think be- 
comes artistic or slovenly, thorough and finished or 
crude, graceful or awkward, to a certain degree. There 
is nothing done to which these terms do not apply. 
Whatever is beautiful or perfect without man's conscious 
agency, that is, a person, an animal, a plant, or a stone, 
a mountain, a lake, is so because the forces existing in 
nature have acted in such a manner as to create the per- 
fect thing instead of the imperfect, or along with the 



AND ART 393 

imperfect as an exceptional instance. It is the effect of 
work done, of force acting upon matter. In a general 
way at least, we may call it Nature's perfect work. 

Is Beauty always perfect work ? are perfection and 
beauty one? Perhaps it will be found that all beauty that 
can stand the test of criticism is beautiful because it is 
perfect. Many things that seem perfect or beautiful to 
one person may be imperfect and unbeautiful to another, 
who can see what the imperfection is. The beauty in 
the color of a flower may mean the relief that comes to 
the mind when no fault can be found in it. It is clear, 
bright and uniform, and we know no reason why it 
should be otherwise. The flower may be variegated, 
and we may still call it beautiful. But if the variegation 
were known to be a symptom of disease or weakness in 
the plant, would it still be beautiful in the flower .? A rich 
deep red in the lips and cheek of a human face is beauti- 
ful to many ; to one who sees in it the sign of a scrofu- 
lous constitution it is far otherwise. The peculiar features 
of the negro may be considered handsome in some parts 
of Africa ; to the ethnologist, looking upon them as indi- 
cations of imperfect development, they have no beauty. 

The flower has also a perfect form, symmetrical and 
regular, which gives us another negative pleasure from 
not being able to find fault with it, a pleasure that quick- 
ly disappears if we discern some imperfection at first 
overlooked. The flower is therefore beautiful for having 
two qualities, color and form, neither of which we are 
able to say is imperfect. On the contrary, the impure 
or uneven color, and the unsymmetrical or irregular 
form are in very many things imperfections ; they are 
indeed so strongly associated wtth imperfection in our 
minds, that unconsciously we assume the first-named, 
or beautiful characteristics, to be the marks of perfection. 

A clear, steady, resonant tone we call musical and 
perfect, in distinction from one of an opposite kind, 



394 ARTOSITY 

which we know to be imperfect. It may have still 
another admirable quality, which we are in the habit of 
calling- sweetness ; not the clearness that represents the 
perfect health of the vocal organs, but a quality of the 
timbre, belonging to the voice habitually, and is called 
sweet only because it indicates the sensibility of a fine- 
grained organism, and the sweetness of tender, humane 
feelings, the characteristics of the most perfectly human- 
ized person. We certainly do not expect to find it in the 
voices of the coarse and brutal. And it is sweet, beauti- 
ful or perfect because those more perfect human quali- 
ties it represents confer the most happiness on their 
possessor, and all with whom he or she may be related. 

Why the musical tone, and the harmonious combina- 
tion of tones, are agreeable to us no one can say, except 
that they make a gentler impression on the auricular 
nerve than do the harsh sounds we call ix)ises and dis- 
cords ; just as the higher grade colors of light, the green, 
blue and violet, consisting of finer vibrations, leave a 
gentler effect upon the eye. If so then in music there 
is a negative happmess, from the lessening of disagree- 
able labor in sensation, just as in contemplating the 
beautiful flower there is a lessening or absence of the 
disagreeable thought connected with the imperfect. 

If g'-ace of movenient is not commonly understood to 
be ease of movement, it has at least been tolerable well 
proven to be so in one of Mr. Spencer's essays. Un- 
consciously, perhaps, we discover or infer that there is 
in it such a lessening of muscular effort, and therefore 
give to it the same admiration we give to beauty. 

Mr. Spencer has also done something to show that 
poetry, the music of words, is pleasant to us for the 
reason that it demands less effort of the attention. In 
oratory it is the easy combination of simple, well- 
understood, expressive words — aside from the appro- 
priate metaphor and the fine adjectives, which adorn 



AND ART 395 

both oratory and poetry alike — that gives to eloquence 
its beauty and effectiveness. It is furthermore a well- 
known rule of art that in a picture or a statue having a 
sentiment or an idea to express, the ease with which it 
makes its design evident forms one of its strongest 
claims to beauty, or to excellence as art. 

Regarding all of these there is no question that beauty 
or perfection is a means of happiness ; and in all there 
is a strong intimation that the happiness is of that nega- 
tive kind which consists in an escape or relief from what 
is disagreeable, or such a lessening of it as we call ease. 
Beauty, grace, excellence, perfection, ease, pleasant 
feeling, happiness, is a series of terms that seem to have 
a natural affiliation. I see no reason to doubt that 
beauty means perfection in the accomplishment of de- 
sign or end, that end being the attamment of some form 
of happiness, negative or positive. 

In drama, and in various other artistic works, it is not 
beauty, as commonly understood, that we are called 
upon to admire, but expressiveness^the intensity or 
force of expression — and we have to consider only their 
appropriateness, in other words, their perfect adaptation 
to express. The perfect adaptation constitutes the 
beauty, the gracefulness, the excellence, the artistic and 
admirable quality. 

What connection is there between the artistic sense 
and the intellect? — is a question that may next be 
considered. 

Among the ancients, Plato made Beauty to be one 
with the Good; Aristotle was the first to associate it 
with Truth. To Aristotle it was that which makes the 
parts, order, and proportions of an object easily com- 
prehensible ; and comprehension is the truthful or cor- 
rect understanding. 

Simplicity, order, and systematic character are still 



396 ARTOSITY 

considered necessary to render a thing artistic. They 
make the contemplation of it easy to the mind, and easy 
comprehension gives pleasure. Those qualities, so es- 
sential to art, involve more or less of rational thought ; 
but they are not all, and do not include all the thought, 
that is necessarily involved in artistic production. 

St. Augustine is quoted as seeing beauty in unity of 
relations ; that thing to him was beautiful whose central 
principle and organic relations we can perceive, — a 
definition which is substantially the same as that of 
Aristotle. But, expressed in other words, this central 
principle is the one thing among many different relations, 
qualities, or adaptations belonging to the beautiful thnig, 
— a something common to all of them ; and its percepT 
tion is by a generalizing process, the same as that by 
which an induction is made from many diverse facts. As 
all the species of a genus manifest the genus character- 
istic, so each quality, relation, circumstance or adapta- 
tion of the perfect thing possesses or exhibits the general 
characteristic manifest in all the others. It is that which, 
in common language, renders them all harmonious or 
appropriate. And when we find fault with some one point, 
in a thing assumed to be perfect, we say this particular 
point does not agree with the rest, is out of character 
with them, does not harmonize, is not appropriate like 
the rest, and is out of place or does not belong with them. 
It has not the same propriety, the same quality, or the 
same adaptation to a purpose. When the common unity 
can be discerned in all the diverse parts, qualities, and 
operations, then we call the thing artistic, graceful, 
beautiful or perfect. We have no other criticism to 
make. 

The combination of unity with diversity is the definition 
which Victor Cousin, the modern Eclectic philosopher, 
gave to Beauty ; while harmony, the term more especial- 
ly associated with art, is the word that Edgar A. Poe, the 



AND ART 397 

poet, applied, in a philosophical essay of his, to what 
present thinkers mean by unity of law, or ot generaliza- 
tion. Unity, in this sense, and harmony, in art, are the 
same. Appropriateness is a word quite as strictly be- 
longing to art as either of the others. When everything 
pertaining to a production of art or artisanship is appro- 
priate to its design, plan or purpose, it is the perfected 
or artistic thing, possessing unity and harmony. 

Truth possesses the beautv of consistency; and with- 
out this harmony or agreement of every part with every 
other, it is not the complete or perfected truth. 

I see no necessity for the distinction made by some 
writers between intrinsic or absolute beauty and rela- 
tive beauty. The first is that produced by nature, such 
as a flower, a pearl, or a precious stone, and in which 
there is something pleasing, while we are not sufficiently 
acquainted with all its parts and qualities to discover 
any fault. The latter is the perfection of things having 
a purpose, and which we understand well enough to see 
whether they are perfect or imperfect. When we know 
more of the real ends served by nature's beautiful 
things we shall probably find them not altogether per- 
fect ; while in some others, not considered beautiful, the 
beauty of adaptation may be as great as in any. For, 
if in the flower its gay color may be the means of attract- 
ing the insects that enable it to continue its species, in 
some insect the lack of ail bright color may be an equal- 
ly good adaptation, enabling it to live by escaping the 
notice of its enemies. The perfectness of this adaptation 
is that which gives pleasure to the art sense, this being 
the most perfect work of Nature. 

The addition of perfect forms or colors, or both, to 
adaptation constitutes the enrichment of decoration or 
adornment. 

But what then is the relation of Beauty to Goodness ? 



398 ARTOSITY 

The same as Plato saw it, a unity. Moral goodness is 
moral beauty, the perfection of unselfishness. Moral 
quality extends to everything so nearly we may well 
question if there is any exception m an act or utterance 
that affects nobody. And as happiness or the greatest 
good is the supreme end of all activity, whatever is out 
of harmony with this supreme purpose lacks one element 
of appropriateness, and cannot be completely artistic, 
perfect or beautiful. Though a disagreeable scene, or a 
painful subject may be perfectly represented, and there- 
fore artistic in a minor sense, unless it be designed to 
teach a useful lesson, or convey a needed warning, for 
human benefit, the thing as a whole becomes inartistic 
in the higher sense, and unworthy the name of true art. 
The art feeling, as claimed by Ruskin, is associated with 
the moral conscience; and the morally unprincipled man 
cannot be the great artist. Truth must possess the unity 
of consistency. Beauty that of propriety. Goodness that 
of equality or justice. And when Mr. Ruskin said that 
ideal beauty is alike the aim of the artist, the moralist, 
and the religionist, he might have added that it is equally 
the aim of the thinker or scientist. Truth makes every- 
thing beautifully consistent, harmonious, systematic, 
simple and admirable. 

According to Schopenhauer the intellect has nothing 
to do with art or taste, the beautiful being discerned only 
by intuition. On the contrary, intellect has everything 
to do with art, as I have before shown that it has every- 
thing to do with goodness. The words, however, may 
be so understood as to give no real contradiction. The 
kind of intellect that only learns and memorizes does not 
perceive the beautiful, except so far as taught. But that 
kind of intellect that can classify and organize its stores 
of knowledge, and thus be able to draw from them a 
higher truth that it has not been taught, this is what per- 



AND ART 399 

ceives beauty or the lack of it. Another writer has said 
that ''one of the necessities for high art is imagination 
or invention, the genius or faculty for producing that 
which is unexpected, an object, a harmony, a perfection, 
a thought, an expression, of which we had no idea, 
could not forsee or hope to find, and which we perceive 
with delight when exhibited.'' This originating power, 
or genius for invention, is the same that discovers a new 
truth. Schelling, an earlier German thinker, called it the 
''intellectual intuition." It is simply the finer sensi- 
tiveness of the developed intellect, which perceives like- 
ness or unlikeness where the more ordinary grades of 
reasoning faculty cannot. The same kind of reasoning 
''genius" gives the ability to criticize, —to see what is 
appropriate or inappropriate, harmonious or inharmoni- 
ous, how many things agree in some one particular, and 
how many are unlike the rest in this respect. The most 
complete art is, then, the combination of eclecticism 
with originality, the learning or doing of all that is true 
and right in what others have learned or done, and then 
by originating power going beyond it. 

This, however, refers to works of design, planned and 
executed by human skill. But, furthermore, there is 
reason to believe that all inherent beauty possesses utility 
or adaptation to some end, as its essential characteristic 
when fully analyzed. Utility and beaut) are thus one, 
and that one utihty. Otherwise beauty will have no 
reason for existence, no harmony with other purposes or 
adaptations, nor with the universal purpose of happiness. 

In agreement with the current opinion it is said that 
there is' no standard oi human beauty; and further, that 
if the Evolution theory is correct no such standard is 
possible. But I venture to predict right the contrary, 
that the future scientist, the anthropologist and ethnol- 
ogist, will discover a true standard of human beauty, 
with good and sufficient reasons for every item of 



400 ARTOSITY 

beauty or grace in form and carriage of the body, and 
every beautiful feature in the shape and expression of 
the head and face. Some hints toward it have already 
been offered by Mr. Spencer, in one of his essays, and 
more definite ones will hereafter appear under the 
guidance of the same theory of Evolution. 

It may not be entirely needless to say that Art has little 
compatibility with Fashion. Fashion, uninfluenced by 
reason, continually changes everything. Art is as un- 
changeable as truth itself; for art is rational, and de- 
pends on rationality. If all people were artists there 
would be very little of fashion, though a richer variety 
in all that fashion now controls. The changes made 
would be determined by art, and the effect of them would 
be improvement. 

The new word Artosity is defined in defining art. The 
perfect work of art consists in the harmonious coopera- 
tion of all things to the artist's purpose of realizing his 
best ideal in creations of utility or in expression. Other- 
wise stated, it is the agreement, congruity, fitness or 
propriety of every part with every other in regard to 
form, quality or aspect ; and of the whole with its design 
or end, and with the conditions, surroundings or cir- 
cumstances under which the purpose is fulfilled. What- 
ever has this is artistic in the fullest sense. It may be 
grand art or commonplace, simple or complex ; but of 
either kind it will be complete. Artosity, then, is the art 
feeling, the aspiration to realize this complete art, the 
desire for it, the appreciation and love of it when at- 
tained. It is to art what religiosity is to religion. 

But Artosity is a larger or more inclusive word than 
Religiosity, and indeed embraces religiosity itself For 
while the latter is concerned with what is right in the 
moral world, and aims at unselfishness in all things com- 
monly supposed to have moral quality, Artosity is 



AND ART 401 

concerned with what is right in every possible domain of 
human activity, and even in the organic world below 
man. It feels the consciousness of ought in regard to 
whatever is great or small, high or low. It acknowledges 
the duty of doing whatever is done in the best manner, 
and of improving everything that can be improved. It is 
pained by the perception of what is wrong in anything 
and everything, everywhere and always. It is the Uni- 
versal Conscience. It will be satisfied with nothnig less 
than perfection in morals and manners, in social cus- 
toms, in dress and adornment in industry ; in the home, 
the village, the city, the nation ; in law, in religion, in 
art. It cannot be indifferent to slovenliness, awkward- 
ness, bungling work or inefficiency, any more than it can 
to injustice. It is saddened, grieved, disgusted, or out- 
raged by the ten thousand senseless, brutal, and villain- 
ous things that occur about us every day, every one of 
which is out of place in an artistic world, a world wherein 
art should be carried into everything. It perceives that 
in all the million items that go to make up human life 
there is a possibility of pain or pleasure to the human 
sense of right ; and aspiring to please this artistic sense 
of right regardmg all possible conditions, and every kind 
of action or expression, it aims at a more universal and 
more perfect unselfishness than Morality or Religion has 
ever dared to include within its widest aspirations. 

To repeat then, there is no mistake in calling it the 
Universal Conscience, the sense of duty regarding all we 
feel, think, say or do, in order to avoid giving pain to 
the artistic sense of others, or to confer pleasure by its 
gratification, and by the increased happiness that results 
to all by the realization of a near approach to the perfect. 
It is thus not lower than the religious feeling, but higher; 
not smaller, but larger; including the moral conscience as 
a part of its own universal sense of right. 

Respecting its origin I can scarcely do more than refer 



402 ARTOSITY 

to what has already been said about the origin of its 
moral part — moral artosity — in Chapters II and III. It is 
not an inherent sense, but a cultivated one. Both art 
and morality begin in the intellect, and to be true, in the 
highest sense, must be firmly based on positive knowl- 
edge. Only through the intellect can we learn what is 
the right, the perfect, the ideal, in all the multifarious 
concerns of life. The more fully the intellect is informed 
the stronger and clearer will be the sense of artistic 
right, including moral right. The moralist has but to 
consider how much stronger the sense of political right 
is in our own country, where it has been discussed for 
generations, than it is in countries lacking such dis- 
cussion, to understand what the intellect has to do in 
creating that moral sense of' right concerning the rela- 
tions of the individual and the state. Every artist, and 
person who has learned a trade or business, knows how 
the learning of it creates the feeling of what is right, fit 
or proper within it ; and how the desire to realize that 
right is strengthened by such knowledge. Of course the 
way to its cultivation is made plain by knowing its 
origin. 

If every one possesses somewhat of this universal sense 
of right, and desire to see what is right, proper, suitable, 
congruous, equal, true, harmonious, artistic and beauti- 
ful in things, conditions, and persons around him, then 
certainly every one is of right bound to recognize that 
feeling, and so to conduct himself as not to outrage, or 
even give offence to it. For, it can scarcely be denied 
that in some degree, and regarding some matters, it does 
exist in all ; as indeed it must wherever there is any con- 
siderable amount of intelligence. No one is so obtuse 
that he or she does not know when another is awkward 
or graceful in carriage, slovenly or neat in dress, ill-man- 
nered or polite in behavior, whether work performed is 



AND ART 403 

botched or workmanlike. Without any knowledge of 
architecture or of anatomy a person can still tell whether 
a house or a town is dilapidated, dirty, and ill-arranged 
or the reverse ; whether he sees a fine horse, or a miser- 
able, crippled old skeleton, driven by a miserable, ragged, 
half-starved human. One class of these things gives 
more or less pain to every beholder who is not himself 
too stupid to care ; the other class gives pleasure. And 
the willful individualist, who insists on his right to do 
what he will at his own cost, does not reflect that the 
cost of all martistic proceedings falls, not on himself, but 
on those around him, all of whom have to suffer pain, 
disgust, or disagreeable feeling of some kind, that his 
selfish individuality may be gratified. 

Here is a species of immorality, practiced by almost 
everybody, and yet scarcely any one takes the trouble 
to condemn. For whatever little may have been written 
by artists and moralists, and more especially by social- 
ists against it has produced no effect; and not one 
person in a hundred of the average mass of civilized hu- 
manity knows what an artistic sense, of a general char- 
acter, means. Artists and mechanics have an idea what 
it requires of them in their own particular work, and but 
little further; for though, as just said, when the offense 
against it is extreme he perceives botchwork, slovenliness, 
awkwardness, he does not condemn it as an offence 
against moral right, against justice, against all persons 
who are sensible of the wrong. Individualism has taught 
people that they have a right to transgress all rules of 
taste, and even of decency, so long as they do not openly 
insult one or knock him down ; after which politeness 
and law begin to make a protest. They can offend his 
eyes, ears, and nose with all sorts of disagreeable things, 
yet the right of the individual to offend is so much more 
strongly fixed in the general mind than the right to pro- 



404 ARTOSITY 

test, that people submit to a great deal of ill usage before 
they feel justified in making any quarrel, or even com- 
plaint. The disagreeable things become accepted as a 
matter of course. In reaHty it could not be otherwise. 
So long as present ideas of individual freedom prevail, 
and individualism remains the law of the industrial 
world, and of the world of thought, the individual must 
be permitted to wreak his fancy upon everything he 
does, and exhibit his lack of sense, taste and propriety 
in every possible way. He could not be sufficiently in- 
dividuahstic unless he did. And individualism must con- 
tinue till men have become strong enough to have no fear 
of losing their petty liberties by closer association. This 
is more especially true in our own country. 

Yet some of the more cultivated acknowledge the 
claims of art generally. Decoration of all kinds is at- 
tempted by everybody ; but decoration is not art in the 
sense here intended. It is work which may be artistic, 
if so done as to harmonize with the character and sur- 
roundings of the decorated object, without obscuring its 
merits by being too elaborate, abundant, or pretentious. 
Or, like any other, it may be inartistic, if done without 
due regard for a rational taste. It may be the beginning 
of art ; for at least it has beauty or improvement as its 
object. True art, however, shows itself in the constant 
improvement of manufactured articles, in landscape gar- 
dening, and in the architecture of ordinary buildings. It 
will do no harm to mention some things in which there 
is still too little, and toward which the artous feeling 
should be directed. No attempt to criticise the fine arts 
will be made. 

The idea of village improvement, as a sort of reform, is 
sometimes advocated. The straightening and grading of 
streets, planting of trees along their sides, and making a 
solid, well-drained roadbed is a work of art as well as 



AND ART 405 

of utility ; and could scarcely be one without being the 
other. But trees with crooked stems, and scattered, 
straggling limbs are not artistic; they give more pain 
than pleasure to the art feeling, and are less useful for 
shade. Some of those that have brightly colored foliage 
in spring or fall might be made as handsome as flowers 
by shortening in the branches when young to make them 
grow thick, and the whole tree of good shape ; while 
without such care their color scarcely renders them pleas- 
ing. To set them so thickly their shade causes dampness 
is not artistic because not rational, unless in a very hot 
climate. 

Farm villages, that could be pleasantly arranged and 
laid out, have been thought of; but no one has pro- 
posed to make the farm itself artistic. Rich men who 
own a few acres of ground with a house on it will spend 
a great deal to make it beautiful ,and commonly succeed. 
But the farm grounds, the place where delicious food is 
produced, or what should be such, is never supposed to 
be capable of artistic treatment, or the man who works 
on it capable of being an artist. So far otherwise is it 
that in many localities the farmer is the very embodi- 
ment of slovenliness, anything but neat in his manner 
of raising the delicious products of the soil, and the farm 
itself is a sort of slovenly hell. Yet the farmer could be 
an artist if he possessed the requisite intelligence, to 
give him both aspiration and capacity. It is no more 
difficult for him to be one than for the mechanic or archi- 
tect. Neatness, plan, system, regularity, order — every- 
thing in its appropriate place, and out of a place where 
it is not appropriate — good fences, ground clear from 
weeds and bushes, regularity in straight or curved lines, 
fully-decayed and odorless fertilizers, thorough cultiva- 
tion, work of all kinds well done, plain but tasteful 
buildings, shapely trees with fruit on them, wood-land 
clear of useless underbrush and rotten wood, — these are 



406 ARTOSITY 

what will make the roughest farm beautiful, a pleasure 
to every eye, and an education in taste to every child 
that grows up on such a place. Cattle? no, cattle do 
not render a farm more artistic, but the reverse. They 
may give a pleasant appearance at a distance ; the poets 
and romancists have written so many pretty things 
about them, that we try to imagine something beautiful; 
but closer contact with them in their ways, and the 
places where they live, shows nothing of the sort, and 
it is only in their wild state, roaming over the woods 
and plains, that a true taste can find them beautiful. 
The family horse, cow, dog and cat, may be tolerated, 
partly for iheir friendship as well as for their necessity. 
Of course the individual animal may be a handsome one 
of its kind, only not as a part of the ideal farm as it 
may sometime be. At present necessity makes animals 
allowable. 

And the farmer's home, — is that artistic ? Scarcely. 
There are plenty of old farm-houses that get into pictures 
made by artists ; some of them quaint, curious and in- 
teresting ; but these qualities, even with age added, do 
not render a thing artistic; they only make' it an object 
of curiosity — picturesque. And the artistic farm-house 
itself is not often seen. Yet it is not difficult to build it 
in form and style corresponding to the location where it 
stands, with an interior appropriately contrived for its 
uses, and without any slovenly surroundings at the rear, 
sides, or front ; but on the contrary, with tastefully ar 
ranged grounds, trees, shrubs, hedges, vines, or flowers, 
pleasant to the eye in every direction, most of them use- 
ful as well as ornamental. As to the interior there are 
certainly many farmers' wives and daughters capable of 
furnishing and arranging household things, suitable to the 
conditions, in an artistic way, when once they have 
learned that decoration is not art, and that the art of 
arranging consists in taking things out of a place where 



AND ART 407 

they do not belong, and putting them where they are not 
only appropriate but the most appropriate ; so that any 
one can find them by simply thinking where they prop- 
erly ought to be, and with what other things they are most 
naturally connected. This is simply neatness or tidiness, 
the opposite of slovenliness, and gives to everything an 
agreeable appearance. The practice of it is not only a 
duty we owe to all around us, but an exercise for the 
cultivation of the mind equal to anything prescribed by 
Dr. Watts or the logicians ; for it is a constant reasoning 
process, set in operation by everything we come in con- 
tact with in our homes and our every-day life ; not only 
in the farm-house, but the village and the city house, the 
store, the factory, and every place where business, work, 
or entertainment is carried on. It is a classification of 
things by their likeness or unlikeness, and placing them 
to correspond, which is the only arrangement worthy of 
being called order. But this is something entirely dis- 
tinct from cleanliness. That may be artistic or it may 
not. A good degree of it is necessary ; for dirt is cer- 
tainly matter out of place. But there are persons who are 
fearfully clean, who spend half their lives, and a vast 
amount of dirty soap-suds, in perpetually cleaning one 
thing or another, yet are as continually dirtying every 
article they touch, for want of thought in the manner of 
using; who scatter everything about them in slovenly 
confusion when at work, and waste nearly all the time 
taken up in replacing them afterward. Similar persons 
fill their grounds full of flowering plants, wherever a va- 
cant spot, suitable or unsuitable, can be found, without 
regard to the time, character, or appearance of the flowers. 
And some of them may imagine they possess a love of 
the beautiful ; when they have merely the child's delight 
in bright colors, the bare rudiment of what may sometime, 
by due encouragement, develop into a love of art. 
Though doing better than to do nothing, neither of these 



408 ARTOSITY 

classes have any conception of art proper, or of the 
beautiful except in a slight degree. 

Coming to the city, we find it hardly more artistic 
than the country. The filthy mud of the biisiness 
streets in wet weather, and the filthy dust when the 
weather is dry, with a bad odor almost always, — these 
are certainly not artistic surroundings for normal human 
beings to inhabit. They may be suitable enough for a 
a population bent only on getting "filthy lucre," regard- 
less of time, place or circumstance, of honesty, decency, 
or humanity, and with scarcely a thought of beauty, 
grace, or propriety. The buildings of all shapes, sizes, 
colors and internal arrangements are not things of 
beauty except a few ; but types of an individuality that 
is blind, selfish and reckless. The confusion generated 
by commercial speculation, gambling, and swindling, is 
not the beautiful system of orderly supply and demand 
so highly praised by students of theoretical economics. 
The palaces of the rich, and the squalid sheltering- 
places of the poor in the same town, are not a beautiful 
combination in architecture. The ash and garbage 
boxes, barrels, kettles, etc. on the sidewalk are not an 
artistic sort of decoration; neither are the innumerable 
signs, of every conceivable variety, that are standing on 
it or hung above. The everlasting parade of horses, 
trucks, wagons, hacks, street-cars, pleasure carriages, 
hand-carts, garbage-carts, etc. etc. before the fronts of 
houses where people live, is not a decorous and seemly 
procession. The endless confusion of sounds they 
make, even when enlivened by newsboys and hucksters, 
is not music. The utterly heterogeneous character of 
the human throng, in their figures, faces, expressions, 
dress, manners, bearing, and occupation — the good and 
the bad, the intelligent and stupid, the distinguished and 
the obscure, the young and old, the rich and poor — all 
mingled together as chance may throw them, does not 



AND ART 409 

make them a fine-appearing company of men and 
women. The manner in which they treat each other, 
though the best of anything mentioned, is not always 
the graceful politeness which constitutes the noble art of 
manly and womanly good behavior. Even the bare- 
headed and dirty statues, at the street corners, and in 
little dusty parks, are not in their appropriate places. 
No, none of all these things is artistic. To sensitive 
persons who have some dim conception of what they 
might be, or may be, they are but the immense discord 
of a million combined inharmonies. The only artistic 
portions of a city are some of its parks, a few of its best 
streets, and a part of the buildings on these. It cannot 
be otherwise till a great social renovation shall have 
changed the whole method and character of industrial 
operations. 

Of the human race itself, in city or country, only a 
few individuals are at the same time handsome, intelli- 
gent, and good, as art would require that they should 
be ; and these few are the product of chance more than 
of design. Education and good conditions improve the 
child after it is born ;* but the original production of 
human beings is still less artistic than the breeding of 
horses, cows, pigs or dogs. Here, too, there will be no 
change for some time to come. 

But art is still possible in the little things of common 
life, things which when well or ill done make an impor- 
tance difference in the amount of happiness or pain one 
receives or confers. There is nothing so small or trifling 
that it is not worth doing in the best manner, whenever 
greater matters do not forbid giving it the necessary 
time. That was a genuine artist, whatever his vocation 

♦This may be easily observed in the American born children of Irish immi- 
grants of the inferior sort, and how in them the form becomes slimmer and 
more graceful, the face narrowed and refined, the sunken eyes tilled out, the nose 
raised up and lengthened, the expression brightened, and the whole appearance 
more human. 



4IO ARTOSITY 

who originated the proverb, "What is worth doing at 
all is worth doing well." To illustrate I quote from an 
old letter of Mrs. President Garfield, which without her 
design got before the public, and does credit to her 
intelligence. 

'*I am glad to tell that, out of all the toil and disap- 
pointment of the summer just ended, I have risen up to 
a victory ; that silence of thought since you have been 
away has won for my spirit a triumph. I read some- 
thing like this the other day; 'there is no healthy 
thought without labor, and thought makes the labor 
happy.' Perhaps this is the way I have been able to 
climb up higher. It came to me one morning when I 
was making bread. I said to myself, ' Here I am, com- 
pelled by an inevitable necessity to make our bread this 
summer. Why not consider it a pleasant occupation, 
and make it so by trying to see what perfect bread I can 
make.''' It seemed like an inspiration — and the whole 
of life grew brighter. The very sunshine seemed flowing 
down through my spirit into the white loaves ; and now 
I believe my table is furnished with better bread than 
ever before — and this truth, old as creation, has just now 
become fully mine, that I need not be the shirking slave 
of toil, but its regal master, making whatever I do yield 
me its best fruits." * * * 

With such a purpose any one can be master of his 
work, can keep his self-respect, can give dignity to 
labor, and glorify drudgery, so long as he does not feel 
unjustly compelled to it, whether building ships, digging, 
ditches, writing a book or weeding a garden. Thought 
makes labor art ; for thought generates the ideal, the 
conception of what perfect work will be, and art gives 
the satisfaction of realizing the ideal. However humble 
it may be, the artist or laborer may then take pleasure 
in seeing that his work is thoroughly, neatly, handsome- 
ly done. , To every one who can do some particular thing 
well there is a satisfaction in doing it. The same satis- 
faction may extend to the doing of various other things, 
when sufficient knowledge and thought have given the 



AND ART 411 

ideal, and practice has generated the ability to make it 
actual. And though every one has not the capacity to 
learn the perfect doing of many things, yet any one can 
learn to do something well, and that something will be 
his art. 

A limit exists, however, past which monotony will 
become tedious ; but it applies to all varieties of work, 
the finest and roughest alike. 

The particular art which includes breadmaking, the 
commonest of all, and one of the most important, has 
never yet been cultivated with a worthy motive, or a 
due appreciation of its value. When attempted as an 
art it has always been with the poor motive of giving 
pleasure only, and hence strong flavors, concentrated 
sweets or sours, and pungent spices, have been resorted 
to to stimulate the sense of taste, and force appetite to 
its most gluttonous accomplishment, aided further by 
stimulating drinks ; all with the result of deadening 
taste, making greater stimulation necessary, exhausting 
the power of the stomach, and finally bringing sudden 
death to the high-liver. The vegetarians, and other 
hygienists, administer wholesome food, but seldom 
make it as attractive and refreshing as it should be. 
Nobody essays to do artistic cookery with the conscien- 
tious purpose of nourishing the body and brain to the 
fullest extent, by the method of satisfying the appetite 
with pure materials, and the best natural flavors, so 
combined as to render everything pleasant, sapid, and 
delicious, without the rank, rich, harsh tastes of con- 
centrated fat, sugar, vinegar, and spice, — a diet that 
will strengthen the appetite and digestion, with all the 
physical and mental functions, and furnish at the same 
time the greatest amount of permanent pleasure to the 
sense. 

With the advent of the new_ Kingdom will come the 



4T2 ARTOSITY 

conscientious treatment of every sort of human perform- 
ance. If Religion has been the mother of Art, inspiring 
the Greek sculptor and the Christian painter with their 
best ideals, then the higher religiosity of that new state 
will grow, and broaden itself out, into the universal con- 
science of Artosity, and apply ideas of right and duty to 
every variety of work, entertainment or accomplishment. 
Whatever will give pleasure, or lessen discomfort, to a 
human soul, without injury to another, either through 
the sense of art or otherwise, is the thing to be said, done, 
or striven for; because that is the right, the just, the ra- 
tional, the proper, the beautiful or graceful thing, which 
increases the sum total of happiness. Every one within 
that domain will possess that motive — he cannot be there 
without it ; and that motive will develop him into an ar- 
tist, and create a paradise of grace and beauty in his sur- 
roundings, his home, his conveniences, and in the dress, 
carriage, habits and manners of those with whom he 
most associates. This motive will render every one capa- 
ble of improvement. And the desire for improvement 
will render every one attractive, every one industrious, 
every one willing to aid in the achievment of a universal 
artistic condition. 

The Ideal it is that man worships in his God. It is the 
ideal person that he admires and imitates. It is his ideal 
of right for which he will sacrifice time, money, health 
and life. Give him a better ideal and he becomes a better 
man. Give the boy an ideal of true manhood, and he 
will grow into manliness, not blackguardism. Give the 
young man a better ideal of social duty, and he will be 
more conscientious, and faithful to his work or his trust. 
Let the young girl form an elevated ideal of love, and 
virtue need never be mentioned in her hearing again. 
Let any one fully conceive of the high possibilities that 
lie before the developed human soul, and he or she will 



AND ART 413 

aspire to reach them, as surely as the shaded plant grows 
toward the sunshine. A more perfect ideal means a 
greater good, a wider, deeper, purer, and more certain 
happiness. We can no more avoid the effort to realize it 
than we can avoid drawing our breath. Let every one 
who wishes well to humanity aim to conceive of the most 
perfect ideal possible, and study the art of placing it with 
all its attractiveness, and all the steps by which it is 
reached, before those he desires to raise. 

Finally, it should not be forgotten that as goodness 
done without a good motive in the love of it, is no 
goodness ; as repentance without a conviction of guilti- 
ness (which also implies an appreciation of the right) is 
no repentance ; so an effort to imitate grace or beauty 
without a sincere desire for it is no virtue. The ideal 
must be admired for its own excellence, after the reason 
of its superiority is well understood, before an imitation 
of it becomes art, andean command the sympathy of the 
art feeling in others. And as there is joy in good souls 
over the sinner that truly repents, so there is joy, sym- 
pathy and friendship in the soul of the artist when he 
finds another doing his work in the true art spirit, as 
perfectly as he can. Whatever good thing is done, 
whatever wrong is righted, whatever artistic work is 
accomplished, must have this love of the good, the true, 
and the beautiful behind it, else, if it can be done at all, 
it brings little of the proper reward of well-doing, 
either in direct self-satisfaction, or in the reflected satis- 
faction and admiration which others should feel. Hav- 
ing the right motive, there is a way to find pleasure in 
everything we undertake to do. That which is true of 
domg right in the most important matters of life is true, 
in a less degree, of doing right in the smallest. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

GOD. 



IN announcing this subject it seems more necessary 
even than in treating Religion, that some apology 
should be made. *' Can you produce anything new in re-, 
gard to this oldest, most cogitated, and most bewritten of 
all subjects ? " — is the skeptical inquiry that quickly comes 
into the mind. Possibly not ; but I shall attempt to give 
the reader's mind a cant in one or two directions where 
it has not commonly been turned. It is so difficult to say 
when a conception is really new that I shall not venture 
to claim any novelty. 

The name God is the same as the Norse-Gothic-Anglo- 
Saxon word meaning good. Though the original mean- 
ing to the Teutonic tribes was probably not the same, 
it is still a noteworthy point that in all modern religions 
God is the good deity, not the evil one. Whatever evil 
qualities one may attribute to his God, this god is still 
a better one than the other, the one Christian people 
name the Devil. However poor one's conception of a 
good deity may be it remains true that his God is an em- 
bodiment and representative of his ideal good. 

This however, is the God of the present time and of 
civilized peoples. To find the beginning of the concep- 
tion we must go back and down to Fetishism, in which 



GOD 41 5 

the savag-e attributes life and personality to everything 
that he in his childish reasoning believes to be a cause, 
and pays special regard to it as having a power to aid or 
injure him. With partial civilization, and increasing 
knowledge of the universe, he comes to discard the little 
fetishes of wood and stone, trees or animals, and adopts 
larger gods, representing the forces of Nature, and its 
grandest objects, thunder and lightning, the winds, the 
sea, the mountains, the earth, moon, sun, and sky. 
With yet further intelligence, men cease to attach person- 
ality to any of these things; but they still attach a 
personality to the universe as a whole, and to this per- 
sonality they attribute all the powers of all the previous 
inferior ones, making him the Almighty Creator, Pre- 
server, Ruler, Manager and Supervisor of all things. 
This they will continue to do till, through the still greater 
advance and dissemination of knowledge, they become 
able to perceive that the deity over all has no more reason 
for existence than the former deities over every special 
part. 

Nevertheless, when the anthropomorphic deity over all 
is laid aside as unnecessary, yet the tendency to fetish- 
ism still lives and manifests itself. "How is that? " will 
be enquired, "what can fetishism cling to now?" It still 
has a hold in Idealistic philosophy ; more especially in 
the Absolute idealism of Germany ; for the English ideal- 
ism of Berkeley was in fact only the ordinary personal 
deity in another mode of manifestation. The German 
philosophy however, without attributing a consciousness 
to the universal Thought, yet held it capable of coming 
to consciousness in man; thus "making the conception 
as much as possible unlike the primitive fetishism, but 
claiming the original and universal cause to be somethin-g 
similar to our own personality, just as does the primitive 
man every little cause of events in his daily life. 

This highest and m.ost subtle form of fetishism may 



4l6 GOD 

never be wholly abolished, till we come to understand 
the nature of intelligence so well we can conceive how it 
becomes an attribute of matter. To all appearance it 
does become such ; but the explanation, the likening of 
it to som.e quality of matter we already know, is the 
thing to be accomplished. The idealist declares this im- 
possible ; but it may prove to be no more so than once 
was the explanation of heat as the vibratory motion of 
molecules. 

In all these conceptions, from the most fetishistic to the 
most idealist, the deity is not necessarily a good one. It 
is a superior being, but whether predominantly good or 
evil depends on the character of the devotee. Only 
when he becomes predominantly good does the deity 
becomes so likewise. Compare the old Hebrew or 
Greek deities with the best Christian conceptions, and 
this is sufficiently evident. In nearly all religions the 
good and evil characters are represented in the same 
person. In only one of the old ones, Parseeism, is the 
representative of evil invested with some of the attributes 
of a god; and the indications are that from this source 
was derived the evil deity of Christianity. When the two 
opposite qualities exist in two separate persons, it 
becomes possible for the better one to be thought of as 
more purely good. 

The philosophical argument concerning God is useless 
except to the few persons who can think clearly and be- 
lieve honestly, in short, who are philosophers. To these 
there is no evidence sufficient to prove a personal deity. 
Yet the belief in such a being is no less prevalent for 
want of evidence. The fact seems to be that people who 
desire, or feel the need of, a personal god will have one, 
whatever the proof for or against. And among these 
may be put the class of divines or theologians. It will 
seem to many unjust that they should be. But the point 



GOD 417 

is that the theologian's anxiety to have a deity is sufficient 
to prevent his reasoning candidly. He is much more 
partial to one kind of proof than to the other, and is 
biased by his desires. I do not mean to intimate that 
the opposite party is free from bias ; but only to empha- 
size the fact that the theologian, as a rule, is like the 
great mass of humanity, governed in his thought by his 
feelings. 

The sentiment of the majority is well expressed in this 
quotation : — 

"It unspeakably lightens the burdens of life to believe 
in an almighty God ; to be firmly grounded in the faith 
that whatever comes, all is for the best ; that a master- 
hand is at the fore. The need of such consolation has 
been and is so great that the human mind accepts the 
faith eagerly ; and shrinks from proof to the contrary as 
the body shrinks from a hurt. It is terrible not to see 
sufficient evidence on which to base confidence in the 
kind intention toward man of such a power ; and to be 
convinced against one's will that such an intelligence 
would place man, weak, ignorant, and undeveloped, upon 
the earth to shift for himself among the terrible forces by 
which he is surrounded, is like believing a mother would 
leave her two-year old child to play unwatched with fire, 
edged weapons, and wild beasts." 

The individual whose feeling is like that here expressed 
is truly like a little child clinging to its father, even 
though the father is harsh, abusive or brutal to it; the 
child knows of no way to live without him, and must 
cling to him in spite of all abuse. 

It is only a scientific knowledge of the universe, and its 
human life, that can change this helpless, dependent 
feeling, and enable one to think regarding God. So long 
as men know nothing of the world and of themselves, 
they will inevitably cling to some imaginary superior 
power, for fear of drifting away into the darkness and 
being forever lost. If nature is to them a mystery, they 
will seek for light from the supernatural. If they know 



4l8 GOD 

little of their own origin and history, they will believe 
some mighty person has created and guided, and will 
finally dispose of them eternally. With little knowledge 
of natural forces, and no conception of the nati^re of 
a true cause, they can only reason like the savage, and 
attribute everything to a personal will like their own. 
Unable to trace their mental operations to natural causes, 
they imagine them to be produced without cause or mo- 
tive ; and in like manner they imagine a great Creator, 
without cause or means, ushering a universe into exist- 
ence by the mere fiat of his will. The undeveloped 
human mind, whether savage or civilized, can think in no 
other way. It can get no farther back than its own 
will, so-called, for a final cause, and to explain what is 
beyond itself can only resort to a similar will. And even 
if a different method of thinking were possible to minds 
in this condition, the great majority of them are too inert 
or indolent to make any suitable effort. 

So long as great philosophical questions remain un- 
answered there remains some excuse for such beliefs, 
even among the intelligent. Yet the theological and 
speculative class have too little acquaintance with 
scientific thought, too little ability for self-guidance, and 
hence too much of the disposition to depend on some- 
thing outside themselves ; while the less cultivated part 
of the race are so entirely helpless they have no alter- 
native but to accept whatever kind of deity, of super- 
vision, and of disposal their superiors may adopt and 
present to them. Thus the belief in God comes to be 
more an indication of the intellectual quality of the 
believer than of any inherem; probability in the idea 
itself. And so we may expect this faith in an anthropo- 
morphic deity to continue as long as ignorance, weak- 
ness, and indolence exist in the average man to the 
degree they are found in him at present. We may 
suggest to him the improbability of his being made a pet 



GOD 419 

of in the next life by one who subjects him to such rough 
usage in this ; or to the more enlightened we may- 
exhibit the immense fact that this planet of ours has 
been the scene of misery for ages, — that an inexpressi- 
ble amount of agony, of every possible kind and degree, 
has been endured by animal and human organisms, day 
after day, month after month, year after year, for thou- 
sands, yes, millions of years without cessation, — and 
still both of them will believe in a God of infinite power 
and goodness, who created and controls everything, and 
who might have made the whole aspect of the universe 
different from what it is. They cannot do otherwise. 
There is nothing to be said against the fact itself; the 
child must become a man before it can have a man's in- 
dependence, and ability to think. Moreover, no one 
ought to attempt to destroy the idea of God in the im- 
mature mind, or force upon it ideas of the more mature ; 
the change from one to the other should be as gradual, 
easy, and natural as that of the physical child into the 
physical man. Criticism, urged before its proper time, if 
received at all, will only confuse, disturb, and torment ; 
and to offer it is more of a vice than a virtue. The natu- 
ral change comes only through the possession of scientific 
knowledge, including history and comparative religion, 
supplemented by an ability to deal with philosophic 
conceptions. 

Since we cannot prevent the belief in a personal deity, 
who has designed, caused, and arranged everything, let 
us see if we cannot criticise, and improve, the conception 
of such a being, so that we may have as good a one as 
possible. If there appears to be any profanity in this 
proceeding it is not so ; for a god is assumed to be a 
perfectl) good being, and if we conceive of him other- 
wise, that mistake does him injustice. But the appear- 
ance is that believers in God do not dare to criticise their 



420 GOD 

beliefs concerning him for fear they are irreverently criti- 
cising him. One of the most effective arguments against 
a personal deity I have ever seen was that such a god vi^as 
a great "Slave-maker," — that those who held the belief 
became slaves and cowards, and that thus the conception 
was degrading. It seems to me that the indictment is 
true ; that believers in God are cowards and slaves to a 
degree at least, afraid of a monster of their own creation. 
He is to most of them a great, almighty despot ; a benev- 
olent one some will say, to others far from being so ; doing 
his own will in heaven, earth and hell, for no other reason 
than because it is his will ; using his creatures as the 
potter his clay, making some to honor and some to dis- 
honor ; and taking them through a career of happiness or 
misery, as his own sovereign choice may happen to be ; 
if happy well, if otherwise there must be no remonstrance 
no complaint ; he created and he disposes of them ; they 
are his property to all eternity, and there is nothing to be 
done but submit, patiently and happily if we can, hoping 
all will be right somehow, but patiently or not there is no 
alternative. 

Here is a good place for criticism to begin. Nothing 
more utterly despotic and arbitrary could be thought of 
by a selfish, proud, arrogant king than such an exercise 
of unlimited power. Is it possible a God, a good being, 
could act like such a man.? Does a good person desire to 
have control over others, and to direct their destiny with- 
out their consent, or their knowledge of what it is to be.? 
Not at all ; on the contrary he would leave them an equal 
freedom. Would a good father wish to hide from his 
children their future career.? No; he will wish them to 
have faith in him, and to submit willingly where they 
cannot know ; but he is ready to teach them all they 
desire to know and can understand. Does this ideal God 
give his creatures all they desire to know and can under- 
stand .? Is there any religious person who does not wish 



GOD 421 

to know more? Is there any one who does not believe he 
could understand more if it were given him, even though 
his finite abiHty cannot comprehend the deity, who is 
assumed to be infinite? Would he be satisfied with a good 
human father who knew, but would enlighten him no 
more? Then is it a good God who leaves him so much in 
the dark, yet demands his confidence and submission ? 
Put a human person in the god's place and he is at once 
condemned. The absurd reasoning of the old Christian 
Father who accepted God's ways, and believed them to 
be God's because they were absurd, irrational, incom- 
prehensible, outrageous or impossible, is the only reason- 
ing that can enable one to believe such a god to be the 
perfect Good. He is the conception of men who could 
think of nothing nobler than an absolute king. Blind, 
ignorant submission to such a being is in perfect truth 
submission to a great slave-maker. 

This being, who in the common language of religion is 
the Universal King, is of course a god of infinite majesty, 
as an earthly king would be if he could be almighty. 
Grand and splendid cathedrals are built of carved stone by 
his worshippers, as "monuments to his glory," like the 
palaces of kings. But does this imply goodness ? On the 
contrary the good person has no majesty, no airs, no dig- 
nity but what his moral character necessarily endows 
him with, and is approachable to the humblest tramp. 
And as to the costly temples, the god that could accept 
such offerings, while millions of human creatures are suf- 
fering for need of the treasure lavished upon them, would 
be but a poor specimen of deity, little if any superior to 
the men whose ignorant devotion builds the structures. 
This again, it will be said, is judging the infinite by the 
finite, which cannot comprehend it ; but in reality the in- 
finite would only posssess infinitely more of this humility 
than the human, not anything different from it in kind. 

Then as to his justice and holiness. Saying nothing of 



422 GOD 

the so-called justice of condemning a race to suffer for the 
sin of its first parents, even through hereditary transmis- 
sion if it were possible to avoid it ; nor of the similar jus- 
tice of allowing the innocent to die for the guilty ; I call 
attention to the special idea that God's absolute holiness 
could not tolerate sin, or allow any of it to go unpunished, 
even though the punishment must be suffered by his own 
innocent son. Is this the way a holy and just human 
person would act ? Do the best persons we know feel 
and act thus ? Or do they tolerate the sinner, and forgive 
the penitent, with no desire to punish, but only to secure 
what compensation is possible to the one who has suf- 
fered wrong ? Are they the best people who are afraid 
of sin and sinners ; or are they those who have but a little 
goodness, who are so weak they dare not trust them- 
selves within reach of contamination, and cry out against 
even the appearance of evil? It is easy to see what sort 
of people have given this character to the personal deity; 
that it is not the morally best class, but a class who 
could not conceive how the best would feel. They made 
an infinite being having their own feelings, and called it 
God. A God conceived by better men would show his 
abhorrence of sin, not by the punishment of an infinite 
person, nor by an infinite (eternal) punishment of the 
finite sinner ; but by infinite efforts to abolish it in the 
present, and- prevent it in the future, with as little punish- 
ment as possible. 

The belief that a God of infinite goodness could punish 
the wicked forever is dying out so fast there is little 
need to hurry it ; but the idea that an infinite God has 
the moral right to create beings, foreknowing that they 
are destined to a career of misery, as Calvinistic Chris- 
tians believe, is so abhorrent to all true sense of justice 
that a few words regarding it are excusable. I know 
not how much has been said or written against it by 
theologians ; but the simple fact that a numerous body 



GOD 423 

of Christians can compare sensitive numan oeings with 
the unconscious clay of the. potter, and call him a just or 
righteous God who could treat one like the other, regard- 
less of the sufferings of those human vessels made to 
''dishonor," merely because it was so asserted by St, 
Paul, seems passing strange, a marvelous phenomenon 
in human psychology. The better grade of human 
beings do not admit that a parent has a right to create 
children who must suffer from disease or deformity ; and 
the man who would knowingly be guilty of such a crime 
would be looked upon as a monster of brutal selfishness. 
Yet here are millions of men and women, many of whom 
are gentle and humane in their every-day life, who still 
try to believe that a God has been doing what is much 
worse than that, for the unfortunate soul created by him 
is supposed to be unhappy for ever. Truly, if such a 
deity is not one of infinite injustice, then I do not know 
what he should be called. 

Let us pass to another conception of the God who is 
supposed to be good. This is the god who takes away 
bright, healthy, promising, happy children by some dis- 
ease or accident, in order to save their souls from danger 
in this world, or to attract the attention of their parents 
to a better one, that they also may be saved. He like- 
wise takes away the happy husband or wife from the 
partner who is in danger of being too happy, or of for- 
getting this god, who apparently is as jealous of the at- 
tentions paid by human beings to each other as he is 
careful of their souls' good. He takes in the same way 
the father or mother of a family of little children, leaving 
them exposed to all the dangers of the world, starvation 
included, that some indiscernible good, shall in some 
strange way, accrue to somebody. If any man does this 
he is taken for a criminal, and put out of society by death 
or imprisonment. But when the great god does it no 
question must be asked ; it is assumed to be done for a 



424 GOD 

wise purpose, and that good will come out of it contrary 
to all appearances. No man would admit the right of 
another human being to take one half such liberties with 
him to do him good ; every one hates the maxim attribu- 
ted to the Jesuits, that the beneficial end to be reached 
justifies the evil means of gaining it; and no truly good 
person would wish to violate another's liberty by follow- 
ing such a method ; but instead would try to obtain the 
consent of the one to be benefitted, by assisting him to 
see the wisdom of the proposed means. A parent will 
often allow a child to learn by experience rather than 
violate its liberty by force ; and so would a benevolent 
deity. Here, however, the old objection that the infinite 
wisdom is not to be compared with man's, will again be 
offered. But it has no validity. Let God be sufficiently 
wise, and his results ultimately good ; yet he is not good 
in subjecting men to the suspense and torment of a blind, 
compulsory trust for months and years, before any satis- 
factory result can be known. If it be that such suffering 
is necessary as a contrast, to enable the sufferer to appre- 
ciate happiness more keenly, then it is like a discord in 
music, long continued and repeated in every chord, when 
the inharmony of a single short note would answer every 
purpose. Finally, supposing the assumption of , his ad- 
herents to be true, that all is for the best to those he 
favors with his chastisements, what shall we think of a 
god who in his partiality thus saves a part of his chil- 
dren, but leaves the rest to go on and destroy themselves 
for ever, without the check of a single heavy stroke from 
his merciful rod.? Surely such a god is nothing but 
a demon, invented by weak, ignorant and heartless 
humans, themselves incapable of understanding how an 
unselfish being, divine or human, would act. An unself- 
ish and wise parent, we all know, would interfere to 
prevent his children's rushing into ruin, while he allowed 
them to learn by sad experience what they could not 



GOD 425 

learn otherwise, so long as their future welfare was not 
seriously endangered. But an infinitely wise and power- 
ful being who does not withold his creatures from 
destruction, even by depriving them of liberty till they 
are able to use it more safely, — it is absurd to say this is 
a good God. A god, finite or infinite, who does nothing 
while men are constantly falling into everlasting misery, 
is certainly far inferior morally to an average human 
parent, less benevolent and less impartial. And it is a 
helpless fear of the great slave-maker that prevents men 
generally from making this criticism. A truly good God 
would find means to bring home all his willful, wander- 
ing, unhappy children, where not a single sigh for a lost 
one should mar the universal joy. 

Still one more of the popular conceptions is that oi^ for- 
giving god, one who is constantly forgiving the sins of men 
against himself. Nothing could prove more clearly how 
little the human masses think, and how little they have yet 
imagined of the true nature of a good God. The whole 
doctrine of propitiation and forgiveness is a relic of bar- 
barism, a part of that great mass of heathenism which 
Christianity inherited from a previous age. Its deity is 
the barbarous god of half-humanized men, jealous of his 
honor and his dignity, like a weak, empty-headed dude, 
or a fierce, rough cowboy. A true God would be noth- 
ing like this. The senseless profanities of senseless, 
ignorant people, which form one class of these offences, 
could no more move'him to anger than the unconscious 
irreverence of the little child that calls, its father Pop, or 
Governor, and orders him to do some little service, arouses 
the ire of the parent. Why should it .? The ignorant and 
thoughtless man is but a child, with no better concep- 
tion of the real character of a God than the prattling 
youngster has of the father's superiority to itself. When 
the child becomes old enough to comprehend, and is 
sufficiently taught, it is ashamed of such talk and aban- 



426 GOD 

dons it. So when the childish man or woman acquires 
sufficient intelligence to form some idea of what God is 
or should be, he or she will become more reverent ; 
more reverent indeed than some of those who now take 
his name in such a flippant or business-like way in their 
ministrations at some of our churches. And when the 
settlement is made with the individual's own conscience, 
God is sufficiently satisfied. He has no more desire to 
punish than has one of us to punish the little child. 

But does not the anger of God burn against the sinner 
who commits a wrong upon his fellow-man .? If he de- 
liberately violates his conscience to do it, or does it reck- 
lessly, the indignation of God and of all good men and 
women must burn against him till he is punished enough 
to have some consciousness of the suffering he has 
caused to others. But this deliberate crime of the mor- 
ally ignorant and short-sighted is not very common, I 
judge ; and that which is provoked, in greater or less de- 
gree, seldom calls for much vindictive feeling in men, 
still less in gods. And whether provoked or unprovoked, 
it is something no deity can forgive, or remit the conse- 
quences of, nor can any person, except the one or ones 
whom it was designed to injure. No amount of prayers 
to God can make any difference. The one offended is the 
one that must be reconciled. The forgiveness of a God, 
or of any other person, if it could be had, would amount 
to nothing so long as the victim still feels that a designed 
or reckless injury has been done to him, and is not re- 
pented of for its .own sake. Nothing can make peace 
and good will between the wrong-doer and the wrong- 
sufferer till the former has become fully convinced of the 
wickedness or meanness of his conduct, and so strongly 
impressed by the heinousness of it, that his pride and 
self-righteousness are broken down, and he is able in all 
humility to ask forgiveness of the injured, and to prove 
his sincerity by making whatever compensation remains 



GOD 427 

in his power. This is much harder than to ask the for- 
giveness of God ; that may be almost as easy as it is use- 
less. But when the sinner has secured the reconciliation 
of the injured one, then all good beings are ready to be at 
peace with him also. No prayers or outward sacrifices 
are needed ; but instead a righting of the wrong from a 
true conviction of its wrongfulness. Never till this is 
done, no matter how long, can the sinner be forgiven, be 
at peace, be happy. After it neither a God, nor any good 
person, could wish to punish, or do otherwise than 
forgive, and that gladly. Jesus said that there is 
more joy in heaven over one sinner who thus repents than 
over ninety and nine just persons who need no repent- 
ance. He then knows to a limited extent what it is to be 
at peace with his brother and at one with God. The sac- 
rifice required is that of his own selfish perversity, and 
his prayers are to be addressed, primarily, to the one who 
has suffered most from his offence. When this is done, 
however, he may appropriately ask God and all good be- 
ings to forgive the sin, which is at the same time one 
against all who have had any consciousness of the wrong 
done, and their sense of right pained by such knowledge. 
It is in fact against all who can be in any manner affected 
by its influence. In the same sense that the fall of a 
pebble jars the whole planet, we may say the whole race 
is hurt by the injury done to one individual ; there is no 
impropriety therefore in praying for a universal pardon, 
the forgiveness of all humanity. 

The superstitious fear of unforgiveness with which 
many Christians torment themselves is a demonstration 
of that low moral state in themselves which prevents 
their conception of the feeling that would animate a truly 
benevolent deity. When they shall have come up into 
a higher one, they will be able to understand that after 
having thoroughly criticised and condemned themselves 
they will have been sufficiently punished already ; and 



428 GOD 

will be in that condition in which forgiveness is proper, 
and to all good beings natural. 

It is perhaps still necessary, though it should not be, 
to say that God — a good and wise deity — is not the au- 
thor of human suffering ; nor of the human selfishness 
that manifests itself in wars, crimes, oppressions, and 
every sort of villainy ; neither of the poverty, disease, 
and wretchedness that have always afflicted the larger 
part of humanity. If any being were it would be absurd 
to speak of him as being good. Evil may effect a good 
result, some of it ; and more of it will after it has forced 
man to develop a degree of intelligence that can get good 
out of it ; but that a good God made human nature and 
evil both, with such possibilities of resulting human 
misery as we see actually produced, is but little bet- 
ter than sheer idiocy. The god who could do that is the 
same old monster of a blind and cruel imagination that 
we find in all the other popular conceptions of God. On 
the contrary, the true God is a savior ; one who suffers 
for others ; not to expiate their sins, a thing impossible 
even if it could be exacted or accepted, but who suffers 
that they, by being aided into a better moral state, may 
sin and suffer less. Every man or woman who makes 
sincere and well-directed efforts for the improvement of 
humanity, in any way, is to some degree such a savior; 
and millions of Christians waste gratitude on an imag- 
inary, impossible savior, while many of the real saviors, 
who do unselfish work and suffer for it, are allowed to 
go without any proper acknowledgement of their deserts, 
or any thought of gratitude. 

Here again I must repeat that if anything in the above 
seems profane, it is not so. No good God need be feared 
for doubt concerning the wonderful stories of a sacred 
book, or skepticism regarding anything contrary to 
natural reason. Such a fear would be the fear of a devil 
or fiendish being, for a good one could have no wish to 



GOD 429 

avoid criticism, still less could he wish to punish any- 
one for a natural doubt. 

In all these conceptions of God we see plainly that he 
is always thought of as a man. It is the anthropomor- 
phic god only that is ccncieved of as personal ; for no 
personality but the human kind can be imagined. At 
the same time no god but a personal one is of any value 
to those who wish to have a god at all ; and so long as 
men must have a deity they will insist on his being a 
person. What the religionist worships in reality is the 
highest human ideal he can conceive. It is this toward 
which he aspires or desires to grow ; and its embodiment 
in Jesus or Buddha is what renders those names so sa- 
cred. As mentioned in a previous chapter, an Unknowa- 
ble, an inconceivable and everlasting mystery, can give 
him no satisfaction. Let us therefore try to imagine 
such a personal being as may be an actual existence ; one 
in whom he may believe without any violation of his 
rationality. 

We must first assume the existence of a spirit world, 
and locate him in that world ; for a personality must 
have a location and a home somewhere. Assuming 
further that that world has been inhabited since men 
began to die out of this, then some kind of society has 
existed there as long as here. If we assume yet further 
that the spirit world is composed of finer materials than 
this, and that the human organism has finer senses, then 
we may reasonably suppose its people to know each 
other s true character better than we do, that they attract 
and repel more readily and completely, and thus sepa- 
rate themselves into groups having similar characteris- 
tics, and finally into two great classes, of good and 
evil, who with their abodes constitute Heaven and Hell. 
If the evil ones cannot be easily destroyed as here, they 
necessarily, when separated from the better part, form 



430 GOD 

some sort of loose aggregation among themselves. As 
their selfish natures render them unsocial and discordant, 
no steady and permanent headship can be maintained ; 
but such a one as there could be might temporarily be 
held by a person similar to him we are in the habit of 
calling the Devil. 

The better part of the total humanity, having predomi- 
nant tendencies to good, are easily organized ; they 
naturally select their best and wisest men for the leader- 
ship of the minor societies, and these, acting on the 
same principle, as they come to form larger and more 
complex organizations, put the superior men of their own 
number into the highest places. Finally, it is not im- 
possible to suppose, the more unselfish portion of the 
whole Earth race in that world would become consoli- 
dated into one grand body, with a single leading mind at 
its head. Being already the superior of all, and placed 
m his position without having sought it, the same true 
civil service principles which put him there would con- 
tinue him in it, as long as his superior fitness continued ; 
while every additional experience given him would qual- 
ify him still better for the office, and enable or require 
him to hold it indefinitely. No one wishes to compete 
with him for it, nor asks for rotation ; because humility, 
not ambition, is the dominant feeling among his near 
associates, and the effort to obtain a position would 
prove a person's unfitness to occupy it. Thus the chief, 
once established in the "highest heavens," that is, among 
those of the most superior virtue, would be virtually 
"enthroned for ever and ever;" yet with no aspiration 
for a place above his fellows, no desire for a better for- 
tune than all may have, but only with a willingness to 
be most useful in the position where others believe that 
he can be. Because a more unselfish spirit and p.urpose 
dwells in this man and his nearest associates than among 
any others, he holds an influence over all below him that 



GOD 431 

nothing- else could give. The goodness dwelling within 
himself he radiates abroad over all to whom it can reach, 
and it IS returned again in impulses of gratitude, admira- 
tion and affection from every heart. He becomes a 
spiritual sun radiating its heat and light, receiving them 
back from millions of his fellows, as the material sun 
receives the gravitating impulses from everything at- 
tracted toward it as the mighty center of all. 

The most perfect organization implies an executive 
Head and Center so perfect in his justice and benevo- 
lence, so wise theoretically and practically in his admin- 
istration, that every subordinate center, and even every 
individual, will spontaneously elect to be guided or con- 
trolled by his method and decisions,, notwithstanding a 
temporary inability to perceive the goodness or wisdom 
of them. Such free election of the chief, and complete 
submission to his rule, is the result of the individual's 
own free judgment. He voluntarily accepts a despotism, 
30 far as it may be necessary, because he sees it to be 
"benevolent and wise; and says ''Thy will be done,' 
feeling assured that no power thus given will be abused, 
that no surrender of freedom will be used to take his 
freedom away, that no needless arbitrary action will be 
taken, that nothing but good can come from the superior 
goodness and wisdom of his accepted chief, leader and 
guide. 

Let this spiritual chief be supposed to continue in his 
office, and his organizing work, for some centuries or 
thousands of years, till the great masses of well-disposed 
human spirits become arranged into harmonious cooper- 
ating bodies, more closely bound together as they ap- 
proach toward the center, and he is then able to wield all 
their combined power for any beneficent object. He 
becomes, in his world, a Consciousness of the Race, 
analogous to the Self or Ego, the head-center of the 
individual mental and physical organism, which, except 



432 GOD 

in case of insanity, retains its official headship during the 
organism's whole career. We then have in this Person- 
ality all the attributes that are actually conceived as 
existing in God. What he lacks, the infinity, absolute- 
ness, creative power, omnisciense, omnipotence, omni-^ 
presence, etc., commonly attributed to the deity, are 
those which cannot,' except by the delusive process of 
forming pseud-ideas or counterfeit conceptions, be given 
to a personal being. 

It is the moral quality of the spiritual Head, his super- 
ior goodness in every sense, that gives him power over 
the depraved and vicious ; which enables the single one 
to put ten thousand to flight, and to conquer all the 
powers of hell. There are few so vile but they are con- 
scious of the rightful superiority of goodness, and this it 
is that rnakes the ten thousand surrender to the one when 
the struggle is forced upon their consciences. But why, 
then, can he not subdue the hells, and change their ten- 
dencies to evil into tendencies to good. Surely there 
must be a desire to do it, and a good reason for the 
failure. Let us speculate a little further, and see if we 
can find what it is. 

For a large mass of human kind to become organized 
into a harmonious, cooperating body, there must be har- 
monious thought — an agreement in fundamental ideas — 
what Dr. John W. Draper called an "organization of in- 
tellect." This philosophy will naturally be a spiritual 
one, with a personal cause and creator at the origin of 
the universe, because the primitive mind necessarily 
assumes a person to be the cause of whatever is not 
known to have a natural cause. All the primitive philo- 
sophies and religions were of this character, and only a 
very few of those able to think proposed materialism as 
a substitute. Spirit was everything and was good ; mat- 
ter, if anything at all was nothing but evil, and whatever 
belonged to the material body of man was unworthy and 



GOD 433 

base. Mail himself, when he came to possess any good- 
ness, became conscious of the vileness into which he 
was continually led by an ignorant selfishness, and to 
himself confessed that he was naturally depraved and 
evil. Thus on earth or ni the spirit world, wherever the 
human race was, the ideas of the spiritual philosophy, 
and the dogma of natural depravity, grew up. Moreover, 
the dogma of human free will is nothing more nor less 
than the habitual reasoning of the savage and the child, 
that all human action not seen to have a natural cause 
must be referred to a personal one ; which, as it is not 
discovered outside, is taken to be the man himself, as an 
original cause or god, able to act m either direction, and 
therefore meriting reward or punishment. 

Now, with a belief in his mind that the wicked man is 
evil in all his tendencies ; that all the appetites, passions 
and propensities connected with the material body are 
naturally vile ; and yet that he is rightfully punishable for 
all his unsocial conduct, while the good man is entitled 
to credit for all his goodness ; how can the good man 
approach the wicked one with any hope of making a good 
impression.? The wicked one, though he may be taught 
the old doctrine so thoroughly that he may sometimes 
acknowledge the justice of his punishment, yet 
knows constantly and vividly that it is not as easy or as 
possible for him to be good as to be bad ; he knows there 
is in most cases a fearful inequality in the conditions un- 
der which the good and bad come into existence; that 
often the circumstances are different in which they act ; 
and that their inheritance of natural character is not the 
same. He can scarcely avoid an instinctive conscious- 
ness of being insulted, or nearly so, and of an unde- 
signed effort to degrade him still more by the assumption 
of superiority which the righteous man carries with him 
in his face, his speech, and his manner. The very fact of 
the present moral inequality between them may suggest 



434 GOD 

to him that there has been injustice somewhere. He 
knows, furthermore, that the pleasures of sense are 
worthy of respect, as a means of happiness, equally with 
those of the spirit ; and till some one comes admitting 
these justifications of his course, he. will feel and believe 
that the teaching offered him is a fraud, and will reject it. 
Knowing nothing of the joy of unselfishness, he will cling 
to that he is familiar with ; and thus with some disposi- 
tion for improvement, that might be cultivated into good 
impulsions, he continues in his selfish course of life, till 
it becomes false, unnatural, and ruinous. 

That, it seems to me, is the main reason the hells are 
not converted, either in this world or the other ; and why 
the whole united goodness of the better part of Humani- 
ty, instead of attracting repels, It is itself vitiated with 
injustice, and meets the natural result of failure. The 
causes that originate hells are too many and various to 
be considered here, and human society will have to be 
renovated to the very bottom before all of them are 
removed. 

Now again let me say that the god here imagined 
is not known or asserted to be an existing reality. 
The only assertion is that for aught we know he may be. 
He has been spoken of in the more common way as 
masculine, which is correct enough, but I judge it alto- 
gether probable that some female deity will be closely 
associated with him, one sufficiently developed to do a 
woman's work equal to his own, with equal worthiness 
and grace. 

Such is the personal god we may believe in if we pre- 
fer. We may never behold him, or yet we may. If we 
do it will not be upon a great white throne, or surrounded 
with ineffable majesty ; we may find him in the councils 
of the wise if w^e are able to get there ; or, quite as pos- 
sibly, in some time of sore distress he will be at our side 
with some word of comfort and aid, and we shall know 



GOD 435 

him only by the beauty of the halo about his head, or 
the wonderful benignity of the expression on his face. 

Having" thus sketched a personality that might with 
sufficient propriety be called God, I will now put aside 
all old and new speculative conceptions, and try to de- 
scribe the real and true God, which does exist, and will 
as long as human intelligence shall exist on any planet 
of all the vast universe. This true God is the spirit of 
Good, which lives in all human hearts everywhere 
throughout the race, in all times and places, in the past, 
present and future, in the material world and the spir- 
itual, in the child and the adult, the savage and the 
civiHzed, with varying degrees of power in each one of 
the immense multitude, yet with a germ in the lowest 
barbarian or criminal, and in the most fortunate with an 
imtensity sufficient to control and harmonize all the ener- 
gies and faculties of the man into one constant influence 
for good. It originates with intelligence, increases with 
mental evolution, and belongs most to those who possess, 
not the largest quantity, but the highest order, of knowl- 
edge. It is the force which society exerts upon the 
selfish individual to bring his action into harmony with 
the good of all. It is the power not ourselves, that is, 
outside of the separate individual, that makes for right- 
eousness. Its influence may pass from one to another, 
from the better endowed to the less, or from the spiritual 
world to the material and the reverse. It is that which 
in the future will make human solidarity possible and 
actual, the crowning result of all human effort. Ideal- 
ized, it is that which all noble souls worship, and em- 
bodied in a person becomes their God. 

This is the God in whom, or in which, all nations and 
races have believed ; which all religions have taught men 
they should love ; which all men, even the bad, respect 
if nothing more ; which the atheist or agnostic admires 



43^ GOD 

and seeks to imitate as truly as does the theist, the 
materialist investigator as truly as the spiritualist ascetic. 
It is the Good about which Socrates and Plato philoso- 
phized, and which the speculating religionist has always 
associated with inconcievable notions of the infinite, the 
unconditioned, the unknowable, etc., making up an in- 
comprehensible jumble of counterfeit and real ideas, 
terrible to contemplate, and which no logic has ever been 
able to untangle and separate, or to harmonize into a 
consistent whole. 

Whether mixed with the traditions of mythology, and 
the speculations of theology, or separate and clear as I 
have given it, this is the true God that no one can deny, 
nor any one hate, nor any refuse to admire and worship, 
with such degree of aspiration as his state of moral 
growth will allow. It is the being in temporary unison 
with this Good that the mystic has enjoyed, and called 
union with God ; a description true, in its degree, whether 
he be in sympathy with some idealized person, or only 
with himself and the indefinite whole of human goodness. 
The young convert and enthusiast has felt a partial union 
with this Universal Good, and by the vivid impression of 
a first experience it has convinced him of the truth of 
religious dogmas, and made him an evangelist to those 
who know it not. It is the consciousness of this real 
thing, mainly, that gives sacredness or respectability to 
all else called religion, and supports churches, priests, 
monasteries, convents and all the paraphernalia of sacer- 
dotalism. For the sake of this, man has accepted the 
delusions of dogmatic teaching, the impositions of priest- 
craft, the self-denial and torture of asceticism. It is the 
knowledge of this one reality that blinds the religionist to 
all the reasonings of the critic, and separates him from 
his materialist brother ; and conversely, it is the igno- 
rance of it, with the usual religious accompaniments at 
least, that separates his materialist brother from him. 



GOD 437 

We cannot speak of this deity as being infinite, abso- 
lute, omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, unknowable, 
incomprehensible ; none of these adjectives apply. It 
is a quality of human nature, a state of the human soul, 
a product of mental evolution, and as universal as the 
race. It exists inherent within every one, potentially if 
not actually, and because it does the false inference that 
the individual is a part of an infinite being has been 
drawn by spiritualist thinkers, from the ancient writers 
of the Vedas down to the teachers of the Mind-Cure in 
the last decade of our own time. 

The Universal Good is a providence, to some extent, 
and will be more so in the future, when every one shall 
feel that its power is over and around him, to shield him 
from evil and aid him toward happiness. 

When the individual reaches a point of development 
where he can surrender the last item of his dearly-be- 
loved selfishness in obedience to this Power, represented 
in, and speaking through, his own conscience, then he 
will know God, will know what it is to be a Son of God, 
begotten of the Spirit, and destined to a high condition of 
happiness of indefinite duration. He will have entered 
into the Empire of the Wise, and will begin to realize 
from experience how much of beauty, and glory and 
blessedness is possible to a perfected humanity. 

Nature, including man, creates gods, and will create 
higher and better ones than any yet known, both in the 
ideal and the real. It has been observed by Max Miiller 
that its conception of Deity becomes the foundation of a 
people ; and that all its institutions become organized in 
accordance with that idea. If this be correct, as seems 
probable, let us hope that the Universal Good will be- 
come the prevalent conception of the American people, 
and that, uncontaminated with belief, doctrine, or secta- 
rian opinion, of any kind whatever, it will spread from 
our country to the whole human race. 



CHAPTER XIX, 

IMMORTALITY. 



IN most of the ancient religions there is a story of a 
Tree of Life, of which men ate and became immor- 
tal, like the highest gods. Christian tradition has it that 
man was once immortal by nature, and lost his immor- 
tality by transgressing his Creator's command. Even 
after this the first men lived well nigh a thousand years. 
According to Hindoo legends they lived a fabulous num- 
ber of thousands. And this wonderful age, too, was lost 
through sin and gradual degradation. 

What the real meaning or true interpretation of these 
old traditions is no one has yet fully discovered ; though 
their wide prevalence, and the sacredness attached to 
them, makes it reasonable to suppose that they once con- 
veyed some portion of truth, and had a value. Perhaps 
they will appear more worthy of respect after some con- 
siderations developed from modern knowledge have been 
presented. 

The race has always tried to believe it was to be im- 
mortal in a dim, uncertain spirit world, after the death of 
the body in this. What is called iniuiiion has clung to 
this faith or hope, despite the lack of evidence, and does 
so still. Yet though commonly held as a faith or hope, 
there is a certain amount of evidence for it. There is the 
universal belief of all uncultured races ; there is the story 
of the disciples of Jesus ; there is the systematic state- 



IMMORTALITY 439 

ment of Swedenborg ; there is the positive testimony of 
many clairvoyants and mediums of later times, who have 
experienced various evidences of its reality. Others, not 
mediumistic, have seen enough to convince them there is 
truth in the theory of the spiritualists ; enough at least to 
show that the materialistic thinkers who have tried to 
account for modern manifestations by other theories have 
done so without a full acquaintance with the facts. But 
after admitting a spiritual existence of some kind, it must 
still be said that one can hardly find in Spiritualistic 
writings any account of the spirit world, or of the nature 
of the life there lived, that is generally agreed upon by 
those who give information about it. There is no sys- 
tematic and positive spiritual Astronomy, Geology, Geog- 
raphy, Biology or Sociology, or what would correspond 
to these sciences. The confused and contradictory 
statements are a serious defect in Modern Spiritualism ; 
and much as one would like to believe in the solidity and 
permanent value of the spirit life, it still seems more like 
a dream life than anything else. 

The majority of scientific men, probably, have given 
up all hope of an immortality in a spiritual state ; and in 
this material world the longest life they think of is from 
ninety to a hundred years. But such expectations or 
opinions decide nothing. The same people condemned 
Spiritualism as about equivalent to astrology or sorcery, 
and all who believed in it as incompetent to judge of its 
true character ; in both of which suppositions they were 
much at fault. The scientific man has never given the 
subject of immortality any attention at all proportionate 
to its importance. All that we have in regard to it is the 
belief of the barbarous races, the tradition of the church, 
the argument from intuition, and the evidence offered by 
Spiritualism. About Spiritualism every one forms his own 
opinion ; and about the New Testament statements I am 
far from desiring to make an expression of any kind. 



440 IMMORTALITY 

But concerning the argument from intuition a few- 
thoughts will be offered. 

When w^e come to examine this intuition argument, 
looking clearly at every phase and form of it, we find 
that in all cases it is an inference drawn from the exist- 
ence of our own needs or desires. Because we are too 
weak to go alone, too blind to see our way through the 
world, too ignorant to know much of its origin, progress 
and destiny or of our own ; and also because we are too 
indolent to learn what we might, we want a deity to fall 
back upon ; one who knows everything, controls every- 
thing, and who will lead and train us till at last we come 
out all right in a world of eternal happiness. In propor- 
tion as we become humanized our reasoning from within 
will not allow us to believe he can be less generous or 
beneficent than ourselves. Most of us wish finally to 
land in a place where will be little w^ork and a good deal 
of rest, and so our heaven is a place of that kind. The 
Arab and the wild Indian want a different sort of heaven, 
and their beliefs give it to them. We, having become 
capable of the higher or finer feelings, have naturally dis- 
graced and suppressed the lower appetites, so we are con- 
tented, or try to be, with a heaven in w^hich the latter 
are unknown. 

So with immortality, w^hich is the foundation want of 
all the others. The human family everywhere, in all 
times, and in all stages of progress, have believed in some 
sort of continued life after consciousness ceases in the 
bod] . Only the few w^ho have learned to reason in spite 
of their feelings, have ever given up this belief. We 
cling to it as the one best thing among all our hopes, the 
great comfort for all the disappointments and miseries of 
the present world. 

The reasoning from intuition is in substance like this. 
All our lower desires have their natural gratification, to 



IMMORTALITY 44I 

some extent at least, and if they could* not thus be satis- 
fied there would be no propriety in having them. Why 
should we possess others if there were not some future 
provision for their satisfaction also? They are higher, 
nobler, better than those we can gratify in this imperfect 
state; why not a more perfect condition for them? This 
is the reasoning of the priest and theologian always. 
The great founder of the Transcendental philosophy also 
had to fall back upon it for God, Freedom and Immor- 
tality ; for this is all his judgment of the Practical Reason 
means. Men of science resort to it when they fail to find 
any evidence in their own field of research. A few years 
since a book was written by two English scientists to 
prove an " unseen world " of spirit by showing that it was 
required by intellectual consistency. The rational con- 
sistency of all else would not be perfect without that, and 
our intellects cannot be satisfied without consistency. 
John Fiske, of Harvard University, has lately taken the 
same method in an essay before the Concord School of 
Philosophy. Only on the supposition that the human 
spirit will by evolution become perfect enough to endure 
forever, he says, can the reasonableness of the universe 
maintain its ground. Otherwise the highest spiritual 
qualities of man, the outcome of all Nature's creative 
work, will be wasted and lost ; which to all human feel- 
ing is certainly not reasonable. Once I saw an elaborate 
argument to show from intuition that every man and 
woman was ultimately to find his or her soul affinity and 
eternal mate, perfect in every characteristic, and perfectly 
suited to each ones desire ior companionship. Certainly, 
the inference was, it must be so ; that is what every one 
wants, and Infinite Perfection will see that the want shall 
be satisfied. 

The unintuitive thinker replies to all this that our in- 
ferior wants are satisfied very imperfectly ; that most of 
us reach the end of life with more of disappointment than 



442 IMMORTALITY 

satisfaction of such desires ; that we want money, home,. 
friends, love, respect, honor, and a comfortable finishing- 
up of our existence here, and that few of us get these 
things in any satisfactory degree, while with some the 
fulfillment is not more than one tenth, and the disap- 
pointment nine tenths of all their ambitions and hopes. 
From such result the prospect is poor for the gratification 
of all those high, refined, and noble aspirations that 
require a perfect world and perfect people. 

Well, every one will make his own estimate of these 
reasonings for and against. But whatever they may be 
worth in regard to a spirit world and spirit life, the point 
I ask attention to here is that intuition, or reasoning from 
the feelings, is of some value in regard to life in a future 
age on our own material earth. If, instead of a universe 
controlled in all its details by the arbitrary will of a 
personal deity, we come to see our world as subject ta 
a great law of unfoldment, under which the present 
amount and degree of progress has been attained, with, 
intelligence and morality as the result of that progress, 
then further advance may bring to us some portion of 
those good things our ancestors hoped to realize only in 
a different world. We began in the imperfect, we may 
end in the perfect. This is but a formula of complete 
evolution. Society, like all else, begins low and works 
up. Man, from bemg a brute may come to be an angel, 
without the necessity of shuffling off the mortal coil. 

In this light the argument against intuition comes to 
mean simply that, in our present state of imperfect 
evolution, the difficulty of realizing our wants and aspi- 
rations is so great that most of us fail oftener than we 
succeed. But that implies nothing against what we may 
do in the future. With the more complete development 
of society and of the individual, the difficulty will be 
less ; because intelligence and morality will be more 
advanced. Society will be more just to the individual. 



IMMORTALITY 443 

and the individual more just and generous to his fellow. 
Where we now realize only one fourth or one third of our 
ordinary wants, we may come to realize two thirds, three 
fourths, or nine tenths of them. There is no need of as- 
suming that we must go into another state of existence to 
do it. To our fathers, who had no idea of a law of prog- 
ress, that assumption was necessary. To them it was 
natural enough to adopt the old Asiatic view that this 
world is a villainous place at best and inevitably ; the 
only hope of future happiness being in another and bet- 
ter one. Since we know the fact and the law of progres- 
sion the case is vastly altered. Even religionists, some 
of them, now believe the Kingdom of God is to come in 
this world by natural means ; and though it is not sup- 
posed to imply immortality, it includes almost everything 
else we hope to find in Heaven ; is, that all that depends 
on human character. 

Now, if this is to be true, it will be only a more com- 
plete carrying out of the process by which we realize 
somewhat of our ideals of common things. If it is a 
house, a business, a farm, a machine, a joint-stock com- 
pany, or a work of art that we desire, we have our idea 
of what it ought to be to be perfect, and succeed in real- 
izing that ideal, sometimes poorly, sometimes pretty 
well, according to the amount of our intelligence and 
oiir good luck. In some cases success depends almost 
entirely upon what we know, and our power of self-con- 
trol ; in other words, upon ourselves. And whatever we 
obtain through good luck, that also we must keep by our 
own ability ; else it soon leaves us, like the spendthrift's 
inherited fortune. What we achieve through our own 
exertions we can keep m the same way. But if we can- 
not make a heaven by our own efforts and acquirements, 
we could not keep it if one were bestowed upon us. It 
will be as near the ideal perfection as we are able to make 
it, no nearer. If, therefore, we possess the angelic spirit. 



444 IMMORTALITY 

the willingness to learn, and the personal accomplish- 
ments that give pleasure to others, we can realize a 
heavenly state as easily and completely as a sculptor 
does his ideal of a statue, a mechanic his of a machine, 
or a general his of an organized army. 

I am now ready to take the same position regarding 
immortality. It, like all the other ideal good things we 
hope for, may be ours if, through our own development, 
we are able to achieve and to retain it. Mr. Fiske be- 
lieves intuitionally that in the spirit world an immortality, 
as the result of development, will be attained. And my 
position is that through the same means an immortality, 
or an indefinite approximation to it, may, for ought we 
know, be possible in this material world. 

To those who are entirely unfamiliar with the idea of 
a physical immortality it will seem utterly preposterous, 
"Men always have died out of their physical bodies, 
and they always will,'' is their ready answer to such a 
suggestion, and any one who thinks differently is in 
their wise opinion a fool or a lunatic. But somehow 
the possibility of it has crept into the heads of a good 
many people, most of them intelligent, some of them 
scientific persons, physiologists, men who have made 
the human constitution a life-long study, and are quali- 
fied to have an opinion worthy of respect. A few of 
them will be quoted ; but first let me meet the common 
objection that such a notion is absurd or insane. 

It has always been held that because man always 
has died he is mortal necessarily. And St. Paul, who 
is responsible for most of what the Christian world 
believes, says it is appointed man once to die. But St. 
Paul is of no greater authority regarding a matter of 
science than any other man of his time, and may be set 
aside without hesitation. As to the experience of the 
past, and the death of all those who at one time or 
another have believed they could continue their lives, 



IMMORTALITY 445 

that no more proves that man will always be mortal 
than it proves that he will always be diseased ; or that 
the rich and poor, the ignorant and the educated, the 
free and the enslaved will always exist together. Dis- 
ease, poverty, ignorance and slavery always have ex- 
isted, yet all of them are capable of being lessened, and 
we all hope for a time when they will disappear entirely. 
Already the average lifetime has been considerably 
lengthened, and if it is now shortening again we know 
what are the causes. If disease shall be finally con- 
quered, the balance between life and death will be 
reduced to a very small matter. It will still be claimed 
however, that the unavoidable friction of the human 
machinery will insensibly wear upon it, till finally, 
without any perceptible disease, we shall die gently and 
pleasantly of old age, after living much longer than we 
do at present. 

But now what if some new and strong influence should 
come in to turn the close balance in favor of life ? Would 
it require very much to make the life power strongest, 
and enable it to constantly repair and renovate the 
animal structure so thoroughly as to render life per- 
petual ? Is there any impossibility in this ? Already the 
physiologist is so impressed by the perfect working of 
the human organism that its perpetual operation has 
been suggested. Some years ago Dr. John Gardner, an 
English physician, wrote a work upon "Longevity, or 
The Means of Prolonging Life After Middle Age, " one of 
the most useful books ever written, and one which every 
physician will speak of with respect. In this he writes : 

''Before the flood men are said to have lived five and 
even nine hundred years ; and as a physiologist I can 
assert positively that there is no fact reached by Science 
to contradict or render this improbable. It is more 
difficult on scientific grounds to explain why men die at 
all than to believe in the duration of life for a thousand 
years." 



446 IMMORTALITY 

Nothing could be more explicit than this. 

Dr. Homer Bostwick, an American author of several 
medical works, published in 1851 a book upon "The 
Causes of Natural Death, or Death from Old Age," which 
was devoted to a method for ''indefinitely prolonging 
vigorous, elastic and buoyant health." He asserts un- 
qualifiedly that "time or the number of years has nothing 
whatever to do with old age or death ; " and that there is 
no law of nature that limits human life. He quotes Dr. 
South wood Smith, as saying that "though when fully 
come, the term of old age cannot be extended, the com- 
ing of the term may be postponed. To the preceding 
stage (the middle-age life) an indefinite number of years 
may be added." And he endorses the statement of Dr. 
Monroe, a distinguished English anatomist, that "the 
human frame as a machine is perfect, — it contains within 
itself no marks by which we can possibly predict its 
decay; it is apparently intended to go on forever." 

These, too, are sufficiently plain. 

Says Herbert Spencer in his Data of Ethics : 

"It is demonstrable that there exists a primordial con- 
nection between pleasure-giving acts and continuance or 
increase of life ; and by implication between pain-giving 
acts and decrease or loss of life." (p. 82.) 

What is this but to say that if we could avoid our 
miseries, and sufficiently increase our pleasure-giving 
acts or happiness, we might increase the life power and 
prolong our lives for a time no one can tell how long.? 

Again in another work, Mr. Spencer says, though in 
different language, that death from old age, like death 
from disease or accident, is a result of inadequate intelli- 
gence, (Biology, Am. ed. 2-393.) 

In other words, with greater intelligence we could 
postpone it longer, and with a sufficient degree of intelli- 
gence could put it off indefinitely. 

Says Dr. B. W. Richardson the author of several useful 
books on medicine and hygiene : 

"Healthful brain work, by development of the nervous 
organism during generation upon generation, may give 
to mankind an increase of health and the possession of a 



IMMORTALITY 44/ 

longer natural life ; may indeed by continuous evolution 
lead to an unthought ofhirth of human existence." 

"This for the possible future. ' * * *(Field of Disease, 
p. 446.) 

Among- earlier authors I could quote similar opinions 
from Descartes, Condorcet, Von Baer and Hufeland; all of 
them men of high reputation, and even from Benjamin 
Frankhn, the prince of common sense. But confining 
myself to the latest thinkers, men equipped with all the 
results of our present knowledge, I will refer to two dis- 
tine"uished French scientists, Dr. Charles Robin, and 
Charles Letourneau.* 

Robin IS quoted by Letourneau, in his ''Biology," as 
saying : 

" No scientific contradiction would hinder our concep- 
tion of a perfect equilibrium between assimilation and 
disassimilation, indefinitely repeated in all existing be- 
ings, without interrupting the continuity of the molecular 
renovation, and without a decomposition of the organized 
substance ensuing. * * The anatomical element or or- 
ganism once produced, once born, may be supposed to 
present a perfect equilibrium oi indefinite duration between 
the process of assimilation and that of disassim.ilation." 

Letourneau himself then proceeds as follows : 

"To dare now to assert that it is not impossible to 
conquer death, is to expose ourselves to an accusation of 
madness. The Animist and Vitalist doctrines fail ; they 
have lost all credit with science; but a yoke borne for a 
long time always leaves a permanent impress, and in the 
domain of opinion the effect often long survives the 
cause. For centuries life has been considered as a mys- 
terious, miraculous fact, beyond all investigation. Each 
organism was regarded as a monarchy despotically gov- 
erned by a metaphysical entity. It wasbelieved that the 
problem of life must eternally defy the power of human 
science. It was ?ifatum, against which it was useless to 

* Within the present year (1888) Dr. William A. Hammond of N. Y. has in a mag- 
azine article repeated the idea first expressed bv him in 1863 (Treatise on Hygiene) 
that "there is no physiological reason why man should die." He attributes 
death to man's ignorance of all the laws of life, with unwillingness to obey those 
he does know ; and believes there is only a question of time when the life period 
will be vastly lengthened. 



44^ IMMORTALITY 

struggle. Such is the prevailing opinion ; but it exists 
only by force of habit. The phenomenon of life has been 
analyzed. We know that it is the result of simple mole- 
cular exchanges comparable to those that take place in an 
electric pile. That there is in the vital phenomena some- 
thing immutable, predestined, no one can now maintain. 
Every living thing conserves itself as long as there is in 
it a certain nutritive equilibrium — as long as assimilation 
and disassimilation are almost equally balanced. Now, 
it is certain that the duration of this equilibrium depends 
upon an infinity of causes, internal and external. Of two 
children born one may live an hour, the other half a cen- 
tury. There is neither law nor rule when the course of 
life is abandoned to the hazard of events, as always hap- 
pens. A priori, it is surely not impossible, an organized 
being given, to maintain indefinitely in it the tide of life 
at a constant watermark ; and it seems to us that science is 
now sufficiently armed to attack boldly this great prob- 
lem." (Biology, Am. ed. pp. 296-298.) 

When the foremost scientific men of the world give 
such testimony as this what becomes of the contemptuous 
charge of lunacy or idiocy .? Though nothing else could 
be expected, yet how plainly it shows the old propensity 
to judge before knowing anything of the question, and to 
assume the stupidity of those who differ from us. 

I have chosen to bring forward only those who by their 
profession are familiar with the science of life, and have 
made a study of the human constitution. Other names 
might be cited, persons of intelligence, and repute in 
various professions, who are equally convinced that we 
know nothing as yet about the possible duration of 
human life. One of these, a well-known educator of 
the State of New York, has within a few years written 
two small works upon the subject,* while magazine 
articles further show that the opinion of thoughtful peo- 
ple IS not so entirely one-sided as commonly believed. 

Presuming that the ordinary objections may now be 
withheld for a time, I will go on to offer some further 

*" The Possibility of Not Dying, and ' When Age Grows Young," by Hylaud C. Kirk 
PubUshed by C. T. Dillingham, New York. 



IMMORTALITY 449 

suggestions, with indications of what may appear in the 
not very distant future. As to the conjecture that the 
world will become too full of population if all are to live 
to a great age, well-informed persons already know how 
to dispose of it, and others may be assured that no 
serious difficulty will arise on that account. 

Every recovery from disease may not be a renewal 
of life, because there may be a reserve force, active all 
the while, and capable of replenishing its natural reser- 
voir as soon as opportunity is afforded. But we see chil- 
dren lingering along for years, barely alive and expected 
to die any time, apparently with not vital power suffi- 
cient to improve ; yet afterward they begin to grow 
strong, and finally acquire enough vitality to carry them 
through an ordinary lifetime. So in middle age we see 
those who are broken down in constitution, whose Antal- 
ity seems to be exhausted, who still by some lucky turn 
acquire new vigor in all their vital organs, becoming 
even stronger than in their youth, and living to a good 
old age. Such cases are not numerous, it is true, yet 
many people can think of some one of this kind they 
have known. In old age, even, the same tendency to 
renewal of life is manifested. Under certain still more 
favorable conditions and influences certain old persons 
put out a new growth of hair on their bald heads, or they 
recover their lost eyesight, or what is yet more remark- 
able, find a new set of teeth pushing off the artificial ones 
of the dentist. In all these instances there is renewed 
health and vigor of the body and mind all through. 
They are less common than the former, but everybody 
has heard of them, some few have known of them by 
better evidence, and in medical and other works a consid- 
erable number of authentic cases have been published. 

Quite a list of persons might be cited who are reported 
to have lived to great ages — one hundred to a hundred 



450 IMMORTALITY 

and fifty years — while newspapers of the present day 
report some of a hundred and seventy or eighty. Though 
such ages are seriously doubted, and one scientist who 
investigated in England was not convinced of any per- 
son having reached more than a hundred and seven 
years, to me there seems as much evidence for as against 
them. Certainly there is no impossibility. If some of 
our young people, by having good original constitutions, 
good conditions, and superior knowledge, should carry 
their life terms up from a hundred and seven to a hun- 
dred and fifteen or twenty no one would feel surprised, no 
one would consider such lives unnatural or strange. If by 
still better constitutions, and still wiser living, the children 
of these should reach a hundred and thirty or forty or 
fifty, still no one would see aught but natural reasons for 
such longevity. Even if those old persons who recover 
their eyesight and hearing, with new teeth, hair, and 
general vigor, should find out what is the cause or con- 
dition of their renewed youthfulness, and if by the proper 
means they should resume their youth a second or a 
third time, still there would be in this nothing but natu- 
ral causes and effects, and surely no one can say it is 
impossible. Nobody has ascertained the circumstances 
attending these cases, apparently because no one sup- 
posed them to indicate a possibility of continued life 
renewal. The idea of death being inevitable has so 
occupied men's minds they could see no evidence to the 
contrary, although in every such instance it is thrust 
right before their eyes. 

To the ready objection of the skeptic that instances of 
old age are exceptional, and furnish no ground for the in- 
ference that others can become like them, there is 
an equally ready response that they are exceptional 
only on condition that all our present circumstances 
remain unchanged. On the contrary, whatever is ex- 
ceptional can be made regular, normal, o'r ordinary 



i 



IMMORTALITY 45 1 

when we come to know the causes and conditions that 
render it exceptional. To acquire this knowledge may 
be difficult, but not impossible. Once the crossing of the 
Atlantic in a steamship was exceptional. All our great 
mechanical inventions and improved processes in indus- 
try were the same. All those superior qualities which 
constitute genius of one kind or another are exceptional 
in certain persons ; yet we are constantly trying»by edu- 
cation to make them more common. Every improve- 
ment made by one person is exceptional till others adopt 
it, and so, therefore, is every step of human progress. 
It is the same with long life as with all the rest. 

Now, with all this possibility, arising from a knowl- 
edge of the most perfect hygiene — the most perfect ways 
of eating, drinking, breathing, sleeping, thinking, feel- 
ing, working and resting ; from a knowledge of all means 
of restoring the sick ; from the inheritance of constitu- 
tions untainted with the almost universal curse of scrof- 
ula; from a scientific knowledge of the conditions under 
which renewals of life and vigor occasionally happen ;— 
with the possibility inherent in all this, let us suppose a 
new element to be added, one that is thoroughly health- 
ful in its nature, to turn the balance in favor of life. This 
new element is the moral force, — the influence of new 
moral motives, new purposes and aspirations, a complete 
change or rejuvenation of the whole moral nature. And 
this new influence acts upon the most central and vital 
part of the whole constitution. It gives new life and 
strength to the body because the man is purified and re- 
newed in his conscience, the centre and stronghold of his 
mind, and hence of his entire being. A new happiness 
and new hopes bring in new energy and determination, 
and stir up every vital organ to its very best perform- 
ance. Every observer knows how powerfully the mind 
can act upon the body ; and when the mind itself is puri- 
fied, renovated and strengthened all its influence goes 



452 • IMMORTALITY 

toward producing the same effect upon the physical part. 
Already this power is so well known to a few persons 
that it is turned to account in healing the sick. I have 
known a health institution where a moral change (called 
spiritual) was distinctly made the precedent to any 
promise of restoration. In the "faith cures" now so 
frequently reported, and also in healing by the new 
method of Mind Cure, though the results are most com- 
monly produced through either the expectancy or the de- 
termination of the mind, yet the moral or spiritual influ- 
ence is often brought in, with additional good effect. 

Well, the moral renovation that is now contemplated, 
as an important new factor in creating vitality and con- 
tinuing life, is such a complete moral victory as will 
cast out all the great enemies of the soul, and carry the 
victor into the Kingdom of the Unselfish. The joy of 
conquering in the great and decisive battle that substan- 
tially ends the hitherto perpetual conflict of good and 
evil in the soul, the new aspirations, ambitions and 
hopes, the new affections that grow out of this result, — 
all these constitute a new fund of happiness which in 
every way ministers to life. Besides this there is the 
healthful influence of rest, of peace, of the calm, quiet 
harmonious soul working out its new destiny without 
friction, anxiety, or complaint. 

All the good results of the change however, are not yet 
named. There will be a moralization (sanctification the 
men of the church would call it) of all our physical 
instincts and appetites, which will turn every one of them 
to a good use instead of a bad one, a wise use instead of 
a foolish one, in all cases. To conceive what benefit 
will come out of this it should be understood that the 
largest half, if not three-fourths, of all our diseases, be- 
sides numberless correlated horrors and sufferings, arise 
from sensuality in its selfish and unprincipled character — 
from gluttony, intemperance and lust. Then let us re- 



IMMORTALITY 453 

member that all the forces now acting in furtherance of 
disease and death can be made equally effective to aid 
health and life, when we shall have gained the wisdom 
and moral strength to use them rightly, and we find our- 
selves in possession of a conservative power that has 
never been properly estimated. Judging from the evil 
effects of unprincipled courses, we may well believe that 
a vast amount of vitality can be saved, and made to 
lengthen human life, by habits of livmg that shall be 
fully controlled in every respect by a thoroughly, enlight- 
ened conscience. It is not at all certain but that death 
could be arrested and held at bay by this power of a moral- 
ized sensuality alone. 

But there is still another new element to be reckoned 
in, before we determine this question of life's possi- 
bilities. This other factor is the rest and satisfaction of 
the intellect, that comes from the acceptance of an ulti- 
mate philosophy, — from a conviction that solid rock is 
at last reached in the foundations of thought. The 
Christian may here set out his system of doctrines as 
being to him just what is wanted, a something on which 
the mind can rest undisturbed. Yet it does not satisfy 
the requirement. For there is no Christian, or if any 
only as a rare exception, who is not sometimes troubled 
by doubt ; whereas, that I refer to is something that will 
enable its possessor to set all doubt at defiance. It is a 
fundamental truth that can challenge criticism to the 
utmost, and come out stronger and brighter, more fixed 
and unquestionable, after every examination. The intel- 
lectual confusion and unrest of the present time is alone 
enough to kill men who, if free from it, would live to a 
hundred years. Its uncertainty haunts one from the 
time he begins to think till he breathes his last breath. 
It perpetually tires the brain with, a perpetually disap- 
pointed search, till the baffled and wearied seeker for 
truth is resigned to die, in the hope of finding the object 



454 IMMORTALITY 

of his quest in a world and a life beyond this. All the 
great questions the soul puts to itself have ever been met 
with silence or falsity ; and the wearing effect upon the 
brain is communicated to the whole physical system. 
The possibility that answers may be found to all these 
great problems, the consciousness of possessing a key to 
such solution if not also the solutions themselves, brings 
a satisfaction nothing else can give, — not joyous or lively, 
but deep, calm, solid, and lasting. The tedious search 
is ended, the harassing struggle is over, the brain, like 
the heart, is profoundly at rest. No need of saying 
that such a rest will lengthen our term of life. 

*^/s there any such ultimate philosophy," every one 
will enquire. It would be useless for me to say there is 
or there is not. My word in regard to it would be worth 
nothing to one who knows the history of thought, and of 
philosophies fondly believed by their inventors to be 
final. If my conception of its nature and effects, and the 
language already used does not command some degree 
of belief nothing would; and so I leave it till a time 
arrives when something more can wisely be uttered. 

I will take occasion to say however, that I believe 
there are means of increasing the vital force that can 
never be utilized successfully until the moral regenera- 
tion referred to has been attained, and the intellectual 
element of a truer philosophy has been united to the 
moral. The best hygiene, one that will furnish the body 
everything it needs, and calls for through its instincts 
and appetites, without asceticism of any kind, without 
intemperance or any wrong use, will not previously be 
learned, or if learned not accepted. Neither v/ill all the 
best means of restoring the health that is lost. The most 
valuable truth can never be acquired till we are morally 
worthy and intellectually capable. 

Here then are three new influences, bearing upon du- 



IMMORTALITY 455 

ration of life, — the perpetual rest of a satisfied intellect, 
the equally perpetual peace and calm of a satisfied con- 
science, and the reconversion of all the forces now gen- 
erating- misery, disease and death, through the natural 
appetites and passions, into such a use that they shall 
generate happiness, health and life instead. Each one 
of these influences alone is powerful ; what they may ac- 
complish when combined no one is yet able to say. 

Immortality, it has been said, is the despair of the phi- 
losopher, but the hope of the Christian. What if it should 
become the despair of the Christian, but the hope of the 
philosopher ? According to the speculation I am now 
setting forth it is likely to be the outcome of human evo- 
lution, the last grand result of intellectual and moral 
development. A number of thinkers have already looked 
upon it in this light, and I cannot do better than quote 
the two great chiefs of the Evolution doctrine ; Mr. Fiske 
having been mentioned as one who takes the same view, 
except that he transfers the scene of evolution to a spirit 
world. 

Says Mr. Darwin : " The fact of man's having risen to 
the very summit of the organic scale, instead of having 
been originally placed there, may give him hopes of a 
still higher destiny hereafter." ("Descent of Man," last 
paragraph.) Mr. Darwin makes no conjecture about 
what this higher destiny is to be ; but when we see how 
much the highest man has already raised himself above 
the lowest aboriginal man, it need not be surprising if he 
should finally achieve an indefinite continuation of life. 
Mr. Spencer has no doubt that evolution is to end in the 
most complete human happiness. He tells us that '*if 
man could anticipate all the changes to occur in his 
environment, and never fail in providing efficiently 
against them, he would have eternal existence and uni- 
versal knowledge." And though this implies an absolute 



45^ IMMORTALITY 

perfection of knowledge never to be acquired, yet a com- 
paralively perfect knowledge and adaptation will neces- 
sarily be the result of evolution ; and how large a step 
toward the eternal existence it may prove we do not 
know. Certainly, according to his authority there is 
nothing against, and everything to favor a greatly in- 
creased life period. (See Biology, Am. ed. vol. I. 88-9. 
vol. II. 393.) 

From what has now been presented one can see that it 
is not the mere speculator, not the religionist with an 
old mystery from a sacred book, not a seer with some 
new revelation, not a visionary or enthusiast of any 
kind, who is the new believer in the possibility of a life in- 
definitely prolonged. It is the man of science — the biolo- 
gist, the physiologist, the anthropologist, who discovers 
this possibility. It does not result from the inherent 
quality of the mind : it is not the reward for faith in any 
particular religion ; it is not to be realized without means. 
It is to come from the increase of know^ledge and of mor- 
al worth ; it is to be earned, achieved, and preserved by 
effort, like every other good thing we obtain. There 
seems to me nothing at all unreasonable in believing 
that when we reach the Wisdom Period of our mental 
growth we shall be able to retain or increase our stock of 
vitality, and perhaps to renew it an indefinite number of 
times. A lifetime twice or thrice the ordinary length 
of seventy years seems almost certain. And an exten- 
sion of even this long life, which shall be terminable 
only by ultimate accident, and accompanied by almost 
the vigor and beauty of youth, is scarcely beyond a 
rational conception of what is possible. 

If this last grand result shall appear it will be, like all 
the beatitudes we intuitively try to expect in some far-off, 
imaginary heaven, one of the ultimate glories of human 
perfection; hinted of, idealized, and dreamed over in 



IMMORTALITY 457 

fancy, longed for and sought in our times of supreme 
suffering, centuries and ages before we acquire the power 
to realize them ; the desire and aspiration for them being 
different from the ordinary wants we can supply only 
in their higher character, and the greater difficulty of 
realization. 

Only those who are making some approach toward 
the Higher State, or developing some capacity for it, are 
able to make life worth living, either to themselves or 
others. To the ordinary selfish man of the world, 
therefore, these speculations will have little interest. 
His quality of mind does not understand the conditions, 
or appreciate the motives, that belong to its continuation. 
Eut those who have been sufficiently impressed with 
what is here offered will now wish to enquire what more 
practical considerations can be suggested, what direct 
and immediate steps can be advised, to one who wishes 
to advance as rapidly as possible on the road toward an 
exceptional long life. 

In regard to moral development what is already told in 
previous essays of this course is the best that I can say ; 
to learn it and act accordingly the best that any one can 
do. The intellectual part of the work includes science in 
general, and especially all those kinds of science that 
deal with life or living things, still more especially those 
of the anatomy, physiology, psychology and hygiene of 
man himself It is useful also to know something of the 
essentials of Medicine, and the various methods of medi- 
cal treatment, as practiced by the ordinary and extraor- 
dinary medical sects. Whatever has a bearing upon 
health must be candidly investigated. From all schools 
and theories something of value may be learned ; and 
the outcome of the whole study is likely to be an aban- 
donment of the main part of the old system of stimula- 
tion by drugs for disease, and by prophylactic means in 



45^ IMMORTALITY 

hygiene ; while in place of it will grow up a faith in the 
unconscious intelligence of the hody,'^ a confidence in its 
tendency to preserve life and health, and in its natural 
power of healing or self-repair, which will trust it to take 
care of itself under all ordinary exposures. It will also 
trust it to right itself when slightly disordered, and when 
seriously diseased the same faith in instinctive self- 
healing will furnish it whatever hygienic conditions are 
instinctively called for, and give a true assistance by 
re-enforcing the natural powers with additional supplies 
of force in the forms of heat, sunlight, electricity, and 
vital magnetism. In short, through the increase of this 
sort of intelligence, the body, like the soul, is likely ta 
regain its natural liberty, self-control, and self-regulation. 

In connection with this matter, one must know enough 
of the philosophy of science to understand the theory of 
the Conservation and Correlation of Forces. Without a 
clear conception of force, and of this law, a person can- 
not realize the folly of wasting vitality or the necessity 
of saving it ; cannot secure the best results from the con- 
servative power of the system, nor make the best use of 
the physical or mental energies ; but on the contrary, is 
liable to waste more vital force in bad habits, anxious 
feelings, or overwork than the best conditions can supply. 
Indeed the whole question resolves itself into the simple 
one of the gain or loss of force. 

It hardly need be repeated that all knowledge of a high 
order, all the more important conclusions of modern 
research, everything that strengthens the grasp, or 
broadens the comprehension of the mind, will be in some 
manner useful for the purpose in view. 

And when the necessary wisdom has been acquired it 
must not fail of being carried into practical effect. It is 
to be made use of in the same spirit, with the same ap- 

* Unconscious Intelligence of the SympaOietic nerve system— ■would be the more 
correct expression to one familiar with anatomy. The vis medicatrix naturae is the 
medical plirase for the same thing in part. 



IMMORTALITY 459 

preciation, and the same interest that an artist applies 
principles to his work, or an engineer makes use of math- 
ematics and mechanics in constructing a bridge or a 
tunnel. All we can learn must be applied in downright 
earnestness to the one Grand Art of Living. 

To the doubt that will still arise whether it is practic- 
able for us at the present time to acquire this knowledge, 
and this moral and physical cultivation that have been 
specified as requisite to success, the proper answer is 
that when we have put forth our best efforts, and gained 
what we may, we shall probably then be able to see our 
way clearly to the attainment of whatever else we may 
need. So the question of practicality comes home at 
last to each individual, and it remains for him or her to 
decide how great an intellectual and moral effort he or she 
is capable of attempting. 

Still further, and finally, motive to live gives power to 
live. With faith in the possibility of living indefinitely ; 
with the moralized passions and intellect belonging to the 
Unselfish Stage, which makes us conscious of being able 
to secure our own and others future happiness ; and with 
the wisdom to harmonize and combine all selfish and un- 
selfish purposes in one great object ; we then have the 
strongest possible motive to live ; and this, by the utmost 
stimulation of all our faculties, becomes a mighty motive 
power, and adds yet another effective influence toward a 
final victory over death. 



CHAPTER XX. 

HUMAN PERFECTIBILITY. 



WHEN we plant a seed, or set a young tree, we 
expect it to grow up nito its normal form, with 
healthy and beautiful foliage, and when it has attained 
its natural limit of growth, to produce its natural seeds 
or fruit. If it becomes deformed we know that some 
external cause has forced it out of shape ; if it shows 
disease we suspect it has been com.pelled to absorb filthy 
substances for its food , if it lacks its proper color, and 
vigor of growth, we know that it is starved for want of 
sustenance or water, is robbed of its juices by insects, 
or has lost its vitality m contending with disease. If 
when healthy and full-grown it fails to produce fruit, we 
attribute the failure to lack of fertilizing substance, or 
destruction of blossoms by untimely frost. Though 
some species of trees may make a straggling growth, it 
is not for them an abnormal one ; and we do not suspect 
the tree or plant of any tendency to perversion or de- 
pravity in either form or product. We always look for a 
cause of its failure, in whatever respect. 

Likewise when a young animal begins its growth we 
expect it to continue, and to develop its normal size, 
form and other qualities. If dwarfed in size we know 
it has lacked sufficient sustenance, either since birth 
or before. In its wild state we never expect to find 
it deformed unless by accident, and if so when domes- 



PERFECTIBILITY 4&I 

ticated we still know there is some cause. If under 
man's care it exhibits disease (as it never does when 
wild) we suspect that unnatural surroundings, filthy or 
damaged food, or contact with diseased men, has been 
the cause of such disease. We never accuse the animal 
of a natural disposition to get diseased, even though it 
eat poison mixed with food when hungry ; nor of any per- 
verse unwillingness to attain its full size, and reproduce 
its species. If when domesticated it lacks gentleness 
and docility, well-informed people are pretty sure it has 
been brutally treated by man, or that it inherits its vi- 
ciousness from ancestors that were so treated ; that it has 
acquired them in spite of a natural disposition to be gen- 
tle, patient and friendly. Even when it devours its 
young, it is easy to discover that it has been deprived 
of the animal food natural to its wild state. 

The human child too is generally supposed to be born 
with a natural tendency to grow up into a healthy and 
good-natured man or woman, if allowed to do so. And 
if man had never acquired any moral qualities, perhaps 
he would never have been accused of any more perver- 
sity than the animal. But somehow, before the child 
gets up to maturity, as the innocence of childhood passes 
away, it is imagined that a moral perversity comes in ; 
and by the time it is full-grown there is no difficulty in 
believing that an evil disposition is his or her natural 
inheritance. What renders this belief still easier is the 
old notion that man is so very different from, or supe- 
rior to, an animal ; an opinion which also comes easily 
enough to a state of ignorance and its accompanying 
conceit. Both these beliefs are very old, perhaps nearly 
of the same age, that of natural depravity at least, so 
ancient no one knows its origin.* Being adopted by 
Christianity as one of the vital points, it has been taught 



'See " Bible Myths and Their Parallels in Other Religions." Chap. XX. 



462 HUMAN 

to the whole Christian world for fifteen centuries, and 
beaten into people's heads so thoroughly in a thousand 
ways, either openly or by implication, that persons who 
have positively discarded the belief, and all those asso- 
ciated with it, still unconsciously assume its truth, and 
act upon that assumption. 

The explanation of this universal mistake is not diffi- 
cult. Man begins life as an animal, and like all other 
animals is selfish in all his instincts and dispositions, 
therefore selfish in all his thoughts — his manner of look- 
ing upon the world and its inhabitants. When he comes 
to have a taste of the superior happiness of the unselfish 
life he believes that to be the truer life, and his previous 
more selfish one to be largely false. The inherent selfish- 
ness which still dominates him induces him, whenever 
he distinguishes two ideas or sets of ideas, to believe 
his own to be wholly true, and that which is not his to 
to be wholly false. So likewise, if his own present one 
is normal the other must be depraved. Moreover, he 
finds that much of his selfish life really is depraved or 
abnormal, — all his criminality and vice, which makes 
him enemies, adds to his troubles, and shortens his days, 
if it does not end them by violence, is an unhealthful, 
and morally insane life. All unwise selfishness is of 
this character. Depravity is also associated with pur- 
poses that are in themselves more or less unselfish. All 
that Jesuitism of the Christian church, and of all kinds of 
Reformers, which is willing to do evil that good may 
come out of it, from the persecutions of the earliest 
popes down to the Anarchism of the present day, is a 
depraved manifestation, a fruit rotten at the core, a good- 
ness often more than half wickedness. All the asceti- 
cism of the religious world, and of good persons not 
religious, is no less truly a form of depravity. But the 
depravity of good and of bad people is alike said to be 
natural, an inherent perverseness attaching to all human 



PERFECTIBILITY 4O3 

kind. The true explanation is in both the same ; it is 
that the natural selfishness is only partially enlightened, 
and therefore only partially good. 

Animals and plants are depraved by man's imperfect 
intelligence; but in their wild or uncultivated state no 
such fault is to be found in them. In the case of ani- 
mals, their intelligence is not sufficient to overcome their 
instincts ; and these keep them physically undepraved. 
They fight, steal, kill and break all the commandments of 
morality ; for this is the normal action of a blind, instinct- 
ive selfishness under conditions such as we find. So it is 
the natural action of the blind animal man, normal to him 
so long as he, like the animal, is unenlightened by knowl- 
edge, and lives in similar conditions ; but changing as he 
become? wiser, and secures for himself a better environ- 
ment, till finally he comes to look upon it as entirely ab- 
normal or depraved. What is normal to him in the primi- 
tive state becomes entirely otherwise in the cultivated. 
The fact, however, furnishes no reason to conclude that 
he possesses an niherent tendency to evil ; on the con- 
trary it proves just the reverse, — that his natural ten- 
dency is toward a higher state than he is born into. The 
supernaturalist of course will say that religion is to be 
credited for all the moral improvement he makes ; but it 
is quite as believable that he adopts religion, so far as 
there is good in it, because he has intelligence to see 
that good conduct is better for him than bad ; and that 
he accepts the superstitions of religion because the 
childish beginnings of knowledge and thought lead him 
into all sorts of queer fancies and delusions, generating 
the superstitious beliefs, and an expectation of finding 
wonderful things in what is unknown. In his primi- 
tive mental state he thinks very much as the child thinks, 
as all the old mythologies prove. He accepts the pater- 
nal care, wisdom and providence offered him by religion 
for the same reason the child accepts it from its parents ; 



464 HUMAN 

as is indicated by the fax:t that religion at the present 
time has its adherents mostly in women, and in those 
men who are least capable of battling with the world, 
of thinking for themselves, and working out their own 
happiness in their individual ways. Thus it is quite 
as easy to explain how rehgion originated from man's 
nature — the superstitious part from his weakness of 
intellect, the moral part from his increasing intelli- 
gence — as it is to suppose that religion created his 
tendency to goodness ; though, as stated in a previous 
chapter, religion after becoming established, and itself 
acquiring some goodness, assisted by its own action in 
perpetuating, if not increasing, the moral tendency. 
And this explanation of the genesis, action and effect of 
religion is the same whether man exists in two worlds 
or only in one. 

The animal not having sufficient intellect to dominate, 
delude and derange its instincts, and therefore remain- 
ing undepraved, in the physical sense, is for the same 
reason unable, except in a small degree, to discover the 
advantage of unselfish conduct, and so remams ni the 
selfish, unsocial or unmoralized state. Man's intelli- 
gence is enough superior to partially control his instincts, 
and with imperfect knowledge to delude and pervert 
them, so that he becomes physically deformed, and full 
of disease ; while the same intellectual superiority enables 
him to learn the greater happiness of a social life, to out- 
grow the blind selfishness of the animal and the child, 
and to acquire the moral feeling and action belonging to 
society. He is thus in a fair way to become entirely 
human (what some would call divine) while he will at 
the same time restore his instincts to their natural free- 
dom, and thus recover his natural health of body. 

Already in medical science the vis medicatrix naturae, 
or natural healing and renovating power of the body, 
has long been recognized as a leading influence in its 



PERFECTIBILITY 465 

restoration to health when diseased or mechanically 
injured. The most capable physicians and surgeons ap- 
pear to depend mainly on this power for restoration, and 
less on remedies than formerly ; while some of them go 
so far as to deny all virtue to medicnies, and claim that 
all cure of disease is self-cure, with the aid of favorable 
conditions. 

What is there to prevent us from believing in the exist- 
ence of a moral vis medicalrix, and its nealing power over 
the mind.? We see how the discouraged person in time 
regains energy, the frightened recovers courage and self- 
posession, the crestfallen again comes to hold up his head. 
Sometimes a prison convict, when he returns to society, 
leads a better life and secures the respect of his fellows. 
From some of the better conducted prisons there is quite 
a proportion of such. Why should we not expect that 
all sorts of criminals and conscienceless people will turn 
toward goodness when they can be so enlightened as to 
understand the nature of society, and the obligations of 
one to another and to the whole.? Would not this be a 
natural result from man's desire for a greater happiness .? 
When he can be convinced that morality is better for him 
will he not take to it instead of crime.? I believe he will, 
and that he has never had a fair chance, by right instruc- 
tion, to show how much tendency to good there is in his 
constitution. 

In the chapter on Religion the religious feeling is 
defined as the desire for moral growth, the aspiration 
for a state of more perfect unselfishness. If this desire 
exists to a strong degree in some persons, as it certainly 
does, then it should be needless to say, to those who 
understand the superiority of natural causes to incon- 
cievable ones, that this feeling so intense in some must 
have its germ in all ; that it is not planted by some 
outside power, and by some inscrutable process, m 
minds where everything of the kind was before un- 



466 HUMAN 

known ; that a capacity for it, at least, must exist in the 
very lowest. 

If this reasoning can now be confirmed by an explana- 
tion of those, manifestations of evil spirit, which in some 
cases appear so fiendish to our ordinary perception, 
there will be little excuse for continuing to harbor the 
old notion of inborn wickedness. That the fiendishness 
actually exists is not denied. It has been asserted or 
implied in this book more than once. No believer in 
innate villainy could aduce more proof of it than I am 
willing to admit. Nothing more utterly inhuman can be 
conceived than occurs about us every day, in isolated 
instances at least, and m all parts of the earth, during 
this last and best century of man's existence. The 
stupidity, too, is equal to the brutality. The new-born 
child, nevertheless, is always innocent. If its inherited 
structure of brain allows it to easily become depraved, 
it also allows it to be educated into virtue ; and its 
ancestors, a few generations back; were born with no 
worse brains than the average. The inferior endow- 
ment of brain is still only exceptional. 

When a little child tears valuable things to pieces, or 
throws them in the fire or the water, we say that it is 
gratifying its curiosity or desire to learn, not that it acts 
from a desire to do mischief. It may well be believed 
that the child has no wish either to do or to avoid mis- 
chief; it simply wishes to observe and get acquainted 
with things around it. Its mind is beginning to grow, 
and the disposition is entirely commendable , the more 
curiosity it has the better, if only some older person 
watch over its explorations and prevent it from doing 
harm. Without any instruction, it may come to do 
wicked things, and yet have no consciousness of wrong. 
I once heard a full-grown man, whose education had 
been better than the average, tell how he had not long 



TERFECTIBILITY 467 

before picked up a little ground lizard, sometimes called 
a salamander, and thrown it into a fire of brush or 
rubbish to see if it would endure fire according to the 
old fable. No one had ever taught him that an inoffen- 
sive wild animal has a right to its life till man needs the 
ground it occupies ; nor had his education given him 
sufficient scientific knowledge to make him sure that all 
animal flesh would burn. Therefore he had no con- 
science regarding the matter; and though possessing no 
more propensity to be cruel than most young men, he 
tossed the innocent and struggling creature into the fire 
with the utmost indifference merely to satisfy a doubt 
no child should be left ignorant enough to possess. 

When half-grown children torment animals there may 
be a double motive, — one the curiosity to see what an 
animal will do, the other the desire to see something 
laughable that is expected ; and still oftener perhaps the 
curiosity to see if it will not do something funny that is 
not expected. As long as any laughable action results 
the torment will be continued, for the child or half-grown 
boy has no natural conscience, and unless taught has 
not even a suspicion that he ought to have any feeling 
except enjoyment of the sport. The same is generally 
true of those older persons who say irritating things to 
tease their own companions. 

The young man who goes shooting wild animals for 
sport or game has been taught just the contrary, — namely, 
that it is perfectly right for him to kill anything he finds 
that is not claimed as some one's property. The thought 
that the animal can have any right to live never comes 
into his head. Civilized boys may be taught that they 
must spare the nests and the lives of singing birds, not 
because the bird has a right to its eggs or its life, but 
because it is pretty and sings. The sportsman kills 
because there is a satisfaction in knowing that he pos_ 
sesses a new power — the ability to shoot — and he enjoys 



468 HUMAN 

seeing the proof of it when the animal falls. He also 
gets credit and admiration for it, like the sharp-shooter 
who shoots for a prize, and in this is another satisfaction. 
But neither the child nor the man does what he supposes 
to be wrong, unmanly, or in any way unnatural or 
depraved. 

In offences commonly known as crimes, though there 
may be a consciousness of wrong-doing, there is often a 
way found to overcome it, and in part at least to justify 
or excuse it to the criminal's own mind. And this is a 
fact that should count for something in refutation of the 
depravity doctrine. I judge that very few criminals fail 
to find considerations that give some sort of excuse for 
what they do. It is also true that they sometimes act, 
as do many who are not criminals, on excuses that do 
not satisfy themselves, and then they are conscious of 
being degraded. When such a person has wronged 
another it is generally, if not always, the case that he 
hates him ; because the presence of the injured one is a 
continual irritation of the offender's conscience ; another 
fact against the idea of depravity. 

What the excuses are that allow one deliberately to 
commit the greatest crimes I confess my inability to 
understand; but I am satisfied there are such with every 
criminal possessing much intelligence, or else that a 
long-continued habit of violating conscience has made 
him cease to desire them. If he has but little intelligence 
then he acts from the blind impulse of the moment, like 
a drunken man or a savage. If such deeds come not 
deliberately, but from provocation, they are simply the 
reflex action generated by the provocation, and in direct 
ratio to the amount of it. Even if the provocations are 
but small, they may be so often repeated, or so long 
continued, that the subject of them at last becomes fran- 
tic with desperate rage, and like a mad dog or a Malay 
running amuk, strikes viciously at every one within 



PERFECTIBILITY 469 

reach, or with less excitement singles out his worst tor- 
mentors and kills them if he can. Many a desperate 
murder and suicide is the result of a long series of little 
torments, which finally become unendurable, and end 
in the most fearful deeds. They indicate no more natu- 
ral depravity than does any little movement in self-de- 
fence of the most common kind. Even if the perpetrator 
be what we call insane, he still reasons himself into the 
belief that he has a right to commit the crime, — that it is 
the best he can do for himself, and for others who are to 
be affected. 

One of the first indications of so-called depravity in a 
child is its disposition to be untruthful. Deception is 
the resort of the M^eak always, and in the child is no 
more an evidence of depravity than is weakness or im- 
perfection of any other kind. Children are taught to 
lie, by seeing how their parents do the same thing, and 
again by being made to suffer for telling the truth when 
they have done something wrong and confess it. More- 
over, some of them do not readily learn to distinguish 
between what they imagine and what they really see or 
hear. For this the parent makes no allowance, and 
when the child reports falsely, owing to such a weak- 
ness, it is scolded or punished with as little charity as if 
it were a full-grown, thoughtful person. There is noth- 
ing here so bad but with wise teaching it may be easily 
outgrown ; though with such teaching as is given, the 
child may live seventy years, and still, like the majority 
of those now living, not be truthful on all occasions. 

£nvy is a so-called bad quality common to both child- 
hood and maturity, and belonging full as much perhaps 
to the latter period. 1 have never known it to be thought 
of as otherwise than bad, mean, and intolerable ; yet I 
shall promptly take the position that it is neither one of 
these. On the contrary, envy is just as natural as 
breath, and is no more depraved or evil. The essential 



470 HUMAN 

nature of the feeling is a desire for equality — for an equal 
possession, or an equal happiness in some way. Of 
course it is the feeling of the weak or inferior. In those 
who have sufficient energy and ability, it excites emu- 
lation, and prompts an effort to acquire that which is 
coveted. But in those too weak to make much effort, 
it creates a wish to obtain a part of what the more 
fortunate have, or dislikes them for exhibiting good 
things the inferior cannot share. In minds that have 
become embittered and irritable, it may impel to the 
tearing down of an envied person's reputation, or an 
injury of his or her property. When the envious person 
cannot gain an equality by his own efforts to rise on the 
ladder of fortune, he is very likely to attempt it by drag- 
ging the one above him down to his own level. In 
children, not yet taught to conceal their feelings, we can 
easily see its operation. When one of a group has any 
good fortune all the rest want a share, and call the 
possessor bad names, perhaps, if they do not get it. 
We all have a conviction, formed by a reasoning so 
clear and simple we take no notice of it, that one is 
rightfully entitled to as much happiness as another. 
If I am capable of enjoying as much as some one more 
fortunate why should I not have it.'' There is no answer. 
"You can have it if you are able to get it," most people 
will say ; but why should I not be able ? is the real 
point. What propriety is there in one's being richer in 
all sorts of good things than -another who wants them 
just as much, and could enjoy them equally well ? And 
why should not each one be able to obtain them by 
making the same exertion ? Why should not the same 
opportunity be open to all.? Some of the lucky ones 
will say that is the case already ; and these, blinded by 
their own selfishness, and supported by teachers who 
are given high salaries and respectability for teaching 
acceptable notions, will not readily allow the truth to 



PERFECTIBILITY 4/1 

affect their minds. Yet the conscious feeling of the 
rich man that he ought to do something for the poor 
with his money, is a testimony that he does really 
admit to himself privately, in an mdistinct way, that 
the less fortunate ought to have something better. The 
public sentiment that demands it of him means the 
same. The true missionary, carrying his good tidings 
to the poor savage, is animated by something more than 
the injunction of his Master, — it is a consciousness of 
right and propriety in the gospel's being given to every 
one. Culture, too, makes an effort to popularize science, 
to spread useful knowledge, to make good literature 
easily obtainable by all. Every one, almost, who gets 
hold of some^^^hing good, no matter what, wishes some- 
body else to know how good it is ; and thus truly con- 
fesses that others ought to be as happy as himself in 
its enjoyment. This is precisely what the envious per- 
son feels or thinks. It is a truth so self-evident that 
all of us perceive it without any conscious reasoning. 
There is no more depravity in the envious feeling than 
in the love of life itself. And the lesson of it is that 
every one, fortunate or unfortunate, ought to do his best 
to alleviate, to lessen, and as far as possible to abolish, 
the inequalities of fortune generated by wild, undisci- 
plined, haphazard Nature, and carry the reign of human 
justice and equality into every nook and corner of the 
world's affairs, however large or small, and whatever 
change or temporary sacrifice it may require. 

Jealousy is closely related to envy, though it has not 
always as much justification. It is the effect of the 
blind native selfishness, determined to retain whatever is 
possessed, or the opportunity of obtaining what is de- 
sired. The jealous person is weak, too weak to have 
confidence in his ability to hold or to obtain the desired 
object; hence suspicious of all competition, and full of 
anxiety when any appears. If he were strong he would 



472 HUMAN 

feel unconcerned. It is in many cases unjustifiable ; but 
in general it is the fear of the weak that they will be 
robbed by the stronger, — not only the stronger in purse, 
but in influence, in personal appearance, in mental or 
moral character. Sometimes it may be the fear of the 
rich that they cannot get all they want ; a feeling less ex- 
cusable than the other. But it is no more depraved than 
the love of life, of food, of comfort, of anything. Foolish 
it may be, mean often, justifiable sometimes, occasionally 
enlisted in favor of some good cause ; but in its ordinary 
forms to be outgrown, like all other weaknesses, by an 
increase of knowledge, of noble purposes, of just condi- 
tions and equal opportunities. 

Faultfinding is the name given to still another wicked 
propensity of the natural man. Having the intellectual 
faculty, he discovers good and bad in his fellows ; and if 
it is right to commend the one it is right to condemn the 
other. When he is ignorant and reckless he does harm by 
it ; when he becomes considerate and just he will criticise 
in a way to be beneficial. In his present half-enlightened 
state he finds fault with the inferior as if he expected him 
always to remain an inferior ; which makes the criticised 
party his enemy, and prevents the criticism from having 
its proper effect. The retort is made that the critic is 
conceited or self-righteous. The real fault to be found 
with both is their want of thought, and of the unselfish 
spirit. One is unable to give criticism in the right man- 
ner, the other unable to accept and improve by it, be- 
cause the critic's fault is equal to his own. If both could 
feel right one would criticise without contempt, and 
never say aught about an offender he would be unwilling 
to say to his face ; while the other would take it and cor- 
rect himself, no matter in what spirit it was given. 

There are people who take pleasure in faultfinding, 
merely because they have keen, active minds, and no 
other employment on which to use up their mental 



PERFECTIBILITY 473 

energy. Some useful study for such persons would help 
them wonderfully, and save them from a really repre- 
hensible use of their faculties. In all other cases prob- 
ably it will be found that the faultfinder has some 
excuse for his criticism, — that something does offend his 
sense of right, of propriety, of rationality. 

As envy may prompt one to recover what is injustly 
taken or withheld from him, and jealousy inspire him to 
guard carefully what is rightfully his, so this may enable 
him to protect himself from annoyance or mischief, or 
to admonish an erring neighbor into a better course of 
life. Even deceit, the least respectable of the four, can 
sometimes be made to serve a useful purpose. In 
neither of them do we find any natural depravity, but 
only natural infirmity or weakness ; that which belongs 
to the early state of all organized things, whether in the 
world below man or in the" social world he himself 
creates. It is a necessity of evolution. What is called 
Natural Depravity means the imperfection belonging to 
the childhood of the race. 

The constantly suspicious disposition is, like those 
already mentioned, an evidence of weakness, indicating 
a mental condition similar to the physical condition of a 
young plant just putting out its first tiny leaves, barely 
able to live and grow at all, needing all it can g^\, and 
every favorable influence, to help it along. Or, in other 
cases it is like that of the starved plant, with strong 
tendency to grow, but unable to obtain moisture and 
nutriment from the dry, barren soil that contains it. If 
we observe the scanty opportunities afforded by the 
surroundings of these suspicious people, their starved 
minds and sociabilities, or the poor inheritance of body 
and brain transmitted to them by parentage, we shall be 
quite as much disposed to pity as to berate them. If 
they did not possess this over-watchful disposition they 
would have no desire to grow, to improve, to become 
more human. 



474 HUMAN 

Irritahility too, what is the meaning of this ? We know- 
well enough what it means when the cause is physical, 
when the tired or hungry child cries, when sickness and 
soreness torment all the nerves of the body, and make us 
ready to cry out at every slight movement or sound. 
Isn't there just as much reason for it when the person is 
spiritually sick and sore, when comforts and enjoyments 
of every kind are taken away, when disappointments and 
defeats one after another, small ones only it may be if 
enough of them, drive one to the verge of despair and 
suicide, or if less than this still leave the spirit battered 
and bruised all over and through ? Irritability is one's 
only defence for the last germ of vitality or hope yet left 
to him, and indicates that an effort is still being made 
toward recovery. 

Quarrelsomeness means that the subject of it possesses 
a good fund of power of some sort, and wishes to try it 
against that of another for the satisfaction of finding out 
that he has the most ; for power means happiness in some 
way, and a consciousness of it gives satisfaction. It 
shows itself in a love of games, or of a conflict of wits in 
debate; in a struggle for office or for a prize; and even 
delights in the fierce excitement of the deadly clash of 
arms. But under the whole of it runs a current of aspi- 
ration for superiority of some kind, however miserable 
and poor. The bull-fight and the prize-fight are its most 
disgusting exhibitions ; but even in these, there is to 
those so poverty-stricken in all noble ideals as to take 
part in them, a satisfied pride in knowing what might 
there is in human muscle, and in the superior ability to 
handle the fist or the sword. In the world as it now is 
such power as this can occasionally be turned to good 
account; and all that is needed is enlightenment, not 
change of nature, to make this propensity useful in forms 
of emulation that in their results shall benefit both victor 
and vanquished. 



PERFECTIBILITY 475 

For revenge it is difficult to say as much. In low 
states of society where brutality is the rule, and punish- 
ment a necessity, this feeling is probably of service in 
taking the place of law. But certain I am that when 
men become wise enough to understand the springs of 
human conduct, and able to reform offenders instead of 
killing or tormenting them, revengefulness will die out 
of the mind, as useless parts of the animal structure 
disappear (or nearly so) when the animal grades up into 
a higher type. 

Pride is one of the old trinity of original sins, (sensual- 
ity, curiosity and pride) and a sinful feeling it certainly 
is when compared with those above it ; but compared 
to a state of mind that has never known pride, it is a 
virtue. It matters not what special sorts of pride, nor 
how many, we include in the generic name, the asser- 
tion holds good. Pride is better than no pride until one 
has grown beyond all pride, and discarded it for a true 
and noble self-respect, which is at the same time a 
respect for universal human nature, gained by experien- 
tial knowledge of its possibilities. The ordinary pride is ^ 
an evidence that the possessor has already made some 
upward progress ; and because he does not know how 
or why he has done so he despises those who have made 
less. He has no consciousness that anyone has a 
higher development than his own ; and treats his supe- 
riors just .as he does those whom he knows to be inferior. 
As he acquires a better knowledge of the world and its 
various grades of inhabitants, he sloughs off some of 
his pride, becoming more modest, approachable, or 
sympathetic, and obtains some idea of what is meant by 
human solidarity. But in the meantime his pride has 
been to him a source of strength or support in his efforts 
to rise, though at last it becomes an obstruction to fur- 
ther growth, and must be cast off. It is an indication, 
not of depravity, but of weakness and immaturity. The 



476 HUMAN 

love of praise and popularity is the sign of a still weaker 
or less mature growth, but at the same time better than 
nothing as an aid or stimulation to improvement. 

Of bigotry we must say the same as of pride. So long 
as the individual mind remains unable to think out a 
scheme of belief for itself, or to form comprehensive and 
reliable judgments concerning important questions, it 
must rely upon the judgment of others, or take whatever 
doctrine falls in its way that seems most rational to its 
present amount of intelligence ; just as it does in regard 
to ordinary affairs of business life. It judges for itself 
concerning its own inability, and as to which is the best au- 
thority, or the safest person to rely upon. It begins by 
thinking honestly and independently as far as able ; but 
after an authority is found, or a satisfactory solution, it 
gives up its freedom and its candor, often becoming a mere 
stupid slave, and a blind foe to all who are not equally 
slavish and satisfied with itself. This bigoted mind is then 
ready to persecute the dissenter to his death, or make 
life miserable in a thousand ways to those who offend 
less seriously. Thus the bigot is the cause of a vast 
amount of evil. Yet in the beginning he did the best he 
could; and after the serious trouble of getting his 
thoughts once settled he is too feeble and lazy-brained to 
again arouse himself, to revise the old opinions, or ob- 
tain new knowledge for a better judgment or a safer 
authority. There is no more inherent depravity than 
before ; and the evils of bigotry, what are they but a 
part of that universal hard fortune the race of man must 
undergo in passing from the selfishness of the animal 
life to the unselfishness of a perfected society.? 

Sensuality is evil only because it is blind. Men have had 
sufficient knowledge to pervert it, not enough to guide 
it rationally. When they shall come to understand the 
true purpose of all instinctive sensuality, as they have 
never yet done, they will cease to be gluttons, drunk- 



PERFECTIBILITY 477 

ards and libertines. They will discover that their in- 
stincts are too noble to be abused in the hoggish manner 
they have ever heretofore been. 

Curiosity, of the mature or thinking person, was in 
former times condemned because it prompts us to stray 
away from the simple path of childhood, marked out" by 
simple goodness, and forever followed by the unprogres- 
sive Chinaman, but deserted by nearly all of the white 
race. In wandering away from it we at length come 
out in all sorts of skepticisms, and with a disposition to 
criticise all the rules of the fathers. This of course seems 
terribly evil to those who venerate the timid wisdom of 
the fathers; but it is likely to prove itself far better for us 
than the helpless goodness they sought to make perpet- 
ual. Progress, even though attained by passing through 
error and evil, is better than the stationary simplicity of 
the ancients. The variation from the primitive path gives 
origin to the story of the fall of man from his primitive 
innocence. The child when it goes out from the old 
home, and the young man who enters alone upon a new 
business, will make mistakes and suffer; but it is better 
than to do nothing, and the knowledge acquired leads to 
success. The start may be made too young, and mis- 
takes may be fatal ; this is the evil belonging to it. 
Nevertheless it is a process Nature requires us to pass 
through, and the only tendency to evil involved is that 
necessitated by our ignorance. We pass through it in 
the intellectual world, and the moral, as well as in the 
physical; we make mistakes and fall and hurt ourselves, 
for the same reason the child falls when it first leaves its 
mother to go alone. The outcome is the same in both 
cases ; we learn by experience, and acquire the ability 
to do a man's work, and to enjoy a man's happiness, in 
place of that of the child. But intellectually and morally 
we have not yet reached the mature stage, and so do not 
see the full parallelism of the two processes. 



4/8 HUMAN 

What shall be said for the drunkard? Is he not de- 
praved? Certainly, depraved by an unnatural condition 
of the body, brought about through ignorance, stupidity, 
recklessness, or by whatever motive induced him to drink. 
But at first he was not depraved, and in gratifying this 
abnormal appetite he is still only selfish. If his family 
could be happy without his being deprived of his indul- 
gence he would be willing. If no one but himself were 
to be disgraced he would as soon have it that way. It 
is not others that he wishes to make suffer, but himself 
that he wishes to enjoy. It is probably the same with 
the libertine, except that in some cases he takes pleasure 
in knowing his ablility to seduce. 

Yet another illustration. The ill-mannered boy who 
shouts, whistles or swears in our ears as we pass him on 
the street has no positive desire to be hateful, but only to 
satisfy himself. He has no conception of true manli- 
ness, or of good behavior ; or if a little he still expects 
credit for smartness, bravery or some other good quality 
by his lack of politeness. If we consider that when he 
imitates the smoking, drinking, swearing, shoulder-hit- 
ting, and such other habits of his class, he is imitating 
what he has been taught to look upon as manliness, we 
may discover m him an aspiration to grow, to improve, 
to become what seems to him better than he is now. 
Perhaps if somebody would try to give him a better 
ideal, without trying to rob him of the old one he now 
imitates, he might be willing to accept it and improve. 
By his own conscious improvement the thought will 
become fastened in his mind that there are people and 
ideas superior to those he has always known ; and there- 
after his progress may surprise those who give him no 
credit for inherent goodness. 

And of those who are the very lowest in moral capac- 
ity, the wretches who deliberately and without provoca- 
tion commit murder or rape or both, — Is there a possibility 



PERFECTIBILITY 479 

of becoming good in them? A possibility of becoming 
better there probably is ; but the germ of goodness is so 
small I cannot ask any mercy for them. Their animus 
is not a love of the crime ; for if they could have what 
they aim to get vv^ithout the crime they vi^ould as soon 
take it vv^ithout. There have been those, however, who 
delighted in slaughter for the sport of it, as the wild 
small boy delights in killmg small animals. But leaving 
aside all thought of vengeance, is there any reason why 
such persons as these should have their lives ? Are they 
not like the nearly worthless plants the gardener throws 
away as of too little vitality to ever repay the trouble of 
raising ? Even if these criminals could become truly 
good men would not the memory of their crime, and the 
consciousness that everyone knew of it and could never 
forget, — -would not this consciousness so continually 
torment them that life would be worthless if they could 
have it ? And though it may be pleasant to speculate on 
the possibility of their meeting their victims in another 
life, and of being pardoned and restored to good will, 
yet this is only conjecture ; and as they actually appear 
in this life, with no more prospect of happiness than we 
can see, would it not be as well to let them go at once 
where life will be different if life at all , or else where 
the materials of their bodies and souls will pass into the 
great ocean of substance to take the chance of being 
recombined into more fortunate organisms, with happier 
careers, than those which have been so fearfully blighted ? 
Let those decide who will ; I have no wish to determine 
the fate of even such as these. 

But it must still be repeated, nevertheless, that the 
conditions out of which such monsters come forth are 
social conditions, — conditions society has either made 
or allowed to exist, and over which it has a thousand 
times more power than any individual. No murder, no 
outrage, no villainy of any sort occurs in w^hich society 



480 HUMAN 

has not some direct or indirect share of guilt ; how much 
let everyone estimate for himself. 

It is time the old theory born of Asiatic helplessness 
was given a final go-by. We suffer from it continually 
and in a million ways. Children are taught deception 
by being taken for liars, thieves, and mischief-makers by 
nature, and in being punished regardless of motive or 
extenuation. Babies even are suspected of natural vil- 
lainy and abused, when ignorant mothers or nurses can 
find no other cause for irritabihty. Animals too must 
endure an extra share of ill-treatment, because their best 
qualities are so little known, and they are continually 
suspected of bad ones. The criminal is supposed to be 
so full of venomous ill will by nature that very little 
effort is made to save him from total ruin, still less to 
reform him by teaching him genuine knowledge, and 
useful skilled labor, by which he can live honestly. On 
the contrary he is put into surroundings that disgrace 
and irritate, and where brutal treatment often outrages 
all his limited sense of justice, till at the end of his pun- 
ishment he is again turned loose upon society thoroughly 
depraved and desperate. In the Christian church the idea 
has excused persecution, and given origin to celibacy 
with all its attendant corruptions. Everywhere and with 
everybody it prompts to suspicion and dislike, and en- 
courages or justifies selfishness in our attitude toward 
others ; for it takes everyone to be a knave or villain till 
the contrary is proved. It repulses strangers and sepa- 
rates friends. It has thus done much to generate the 
very depravity it assumes. But this will never be much 
less, until, while prudent in regard to present evil ten- 
dencies, we begin to treat humanity in the faith that it 
possesses growing germs of goodness, capable in time 
of becoming fully developed. Evolution is a philosophy 
of hope, the old is one of despair. 



TERFECTIBILITY 48I 

Ihe critical rationalist has professedly disowned the 
original-depravity idea, yet it is difficult to see how he 
gives his brother man any more credit for inherent good- 
ness, or good capability, than does his orthodox neigh- 
bor. He seldom acts toward him as if he thought he 
would respond to good quicker and more surely than to 
evil ; though this is the inference that properly comes 
into his mind, from scientific knowledge, after the old 
dogmas are cast out. He accuses the adherent of old 
opinions of harboring bigotry, yet in this very important 
point is at least slow to discover the truth. It is useless, 
however, to accuse either party of bigotry, or of any 
other immorality, without showing him its nature and 
cause, how he becomes guilty, and how he can improve. 
When causes are known charity, and true liberality, and 
self-improvement begin to appear. 

There is one special application of this thought that 
needs imperatively to be made at this time, when a 
great social renovation is soon to cause serious disturb- 
ance in the minds of all, and has in it the possibility of 
much evil, even if there were a general disposition to be 
rational and generous. The socialist now makes his 
claim in behalf of a single class, which, though sadly 
needing the proposed change, is not the only one that 
needs it. The rich need it for their own moral good, the 
professional class to save them from a servile prostitu- 
tion of their abilities, and the whole female half of society 
to lift them out of their hereditary slavery, as much as 
does the laborer for his material benefit. Justice will in 
some manner benefit every one. But the socialist, in ap- 
pealing to the workingman only or chiefly, assumes the 
moral perversity of the whole capitalist class, — an 
assumption directly adapted to engender all the animos- 
ity he predicts. He often speaks as if he believed them 
to be bent on doing conscious and deliberate injustice; 



482 HUMAN 

the accusation necessarily tending- to enrage both the 
rich and the poor against each other. But it is not true. 
The capitalist does do injustice, of the most fearful kind, 
by shooting down in the street the men who threaten to 
damage his property. But he does it, not because he is 
by nature worse than the less fortunate workingman, but 
because he has been taught for centuries that property is 
more sacred than life, and that he has a right to take life 
in defending his property. So have the priest and the 
editor, who justify him in this wholesale murder, and the 
governing lawyer class who allow it to go unpunished 
and even unprosecuted. The extreme anarchist, who ad- 
vocates a resort to force to obtain the property he should 
have been enabled to secure peaceably, — does he not act 
on the same idea .? Justice, it is true, is on his side ; but 
that does not justify him in committing a greater injustice 
than he suffers, by taking life for the property he is ex- 
cluded from, through the industrial arrangements of a 
society in which all have been blind. The rich may be 
deliberately blind hereafter ; because it is for their short- 
sighted selfish interest to be so, just as it is for the selfish 
interest of the poor to get their eyes open. Yet that does 
not prove that if places were changed one class of per- 
sons would be more disposed to resist light and justice 
than another. The perception of justice and injustice is 
what will make a man a socialist. And though a major- 
ity of the rich cannot be expected to overcome all their 
prepossessions for wealth and luxury, yet a considerable 
minority of them may do so ; and a large majority of that 
middle class, neither rich nor poor nor ignorant, who 
make up the body of all progressive parties, must be 
counted on to do the final work of placing society on a 
basis of industrial justice. The more faith the socialist 
has in human goodness, and the more he appeals to it in 
all classes, the sooner will the social revolution come, 
the more peaceful will be its advent, and the more glori- 
ous the results it will accomplish. 



PERFECTIBILITY 483 

It is precisely because humanity possesses the ele- 
ments of goodness that the social revolution will triumph 
in spite of all opposition. That is why the Anti-slavery 
cause triumphed, and why Christianity itself triumphed 
in the early centuries. Socialism will not only triumph 
for that reason, but the same element of good furnishes 
ground for a hope, that notwithstanding the present 
holders of power show much of the tyrannical and 
merciless spirit, the reorganization of industry will be 
effected through the ballot, and with comparative peace 
and order. The same enlightenment that has made the 
socialist must be relied on to convert the farmer, the 
capitalist, the professional man, and the police. It is 
fear of natural depravity that generates the sacredness of 
law, and the dread of disorder or change. The Jesuit 
who gives his prime allegiance to his church, and the 
American Protestant anxious to put an acknowledgment 
of his God into the national constitution, are both alike 
liable to become bad citizens, and dangerous to theij^-- 
fellowmen, because they sincerely believe that the source 
of all goodness is outside of human nature. The social- 
ist should be the last one to harbor such an idea, either 
consciously or unconsciously ; but should put his whole 
confidence in human capacity for good^ feeling assured 
that the more he trusts it the more he will find it ex- 
hibited. 

Furthermore, the well-to-do conservative is eternally 
iterating and reiterating to him that the idle, the poor 
and the starving are the lazy, the thriftless and drunken 
ones, themselves alone blameable for what they suffer. 
Though this is to some extent true, the socialist should 
be ready to reply that the lazy, thriftless and drunken 
among the rich do not starve ; that the thriftless poor 
spend for the same indulgences the rich do ; that the lazy 
one was never educated by society into industrious 
habits, as he might have been; that the rich, instead, 



484 HUMAN 

have by their own example taught him that laziness 
might be respectable; that every tramp, when he first 
became one, would have been ^lad to work; that a poor 
loafer is morally no worse than a rich sport ; that drink 
is the only comfort, such as it is, that many poor 
wretches can get ; and that even a savage will work for 
the things he wants. Thus there is nothing in the nat- 
ural character of any of these to prevent their being edu- 
cated when young, by a better industrial system, into 
industrious and useful members of society. 

The one general statement which harmonizes all we 
know concerning this matter is that the human being, 
like the animal and plant, has a native tendency to grow, 
to develop, to become perfect. Beginning as a mere 
animal, with no thought, feeling or instinct different 
from that of other animals, man ends by becoming an 
angel, with all the noble qualities we can imagine the 
highest intelligent being to possess. It is not that nature 
has endowed the human with anything better, at the 
start, than the higher animals possess, in the way of a 
mental or spiritual character; but only a finer and com- 
pleter physical organism, which gives man the capacity 
for a greater improvement, enables him to make a greater 
advance, and at length to reach a point where his prog- 
ress becomes continual. 

It is only with the best of humanity however, that its 
progress is thus continuous, as yet. So far as we can 
see, many individuals of the white race carry the childish 
development of mind into old age, and a large number 
the half-developed state of the half-grown boy or girl. 
The colored races seem to be arrested in their growth at 
some one or another of the stages between childhood and 
maturity. Those who have acquired the capacity for con- 
tinuous evolution appear as but a small minority of the 
whole human family, the flower of the white race in 



PERFECTIBILITY 485 

Europe and America. What the other races may be able 
to do under a better leadership, after one portion of hu- 
manity has become capable of leading, no one can say. 

But because human nature possesses the capacity^ in 
its highest individuals, to become divine, it is therefore 
sacred ; the most sacred of anything we know ; far more 
sacred than any kind of art, property or institution, any 
creed, law or revelation. For these are but its aids, the 
protections with which it surrounds itself, the means by 
which it advances, the ladders upon which it climbs. 
It may cherish or discard any one or all of them, accord- 
ing as its own needs or aspirations may be served thereby. 
It alone is the one supreme thing in value and importance. 

When the human being shall come to realize what the 
capabilities are within himself no standard raised during 
his earlier days will be able to satisfy his aspirations, or 
be allowed to limit his progress. His own soul becomes 
God. Whatever its origin, however low and brutal it 
may once have been, he knows from an experience noth- 
ing can controvert that by inherent capacity it is divine, 
and his ruling desire is to make it so in actuality. 

Select and replant, and give cultivation, describes the 
process by which all our finest fruits and flowers have 
come to be what we find them to-day. Select and regen- 
erate, and give good conditions, tells how the noblest 
domestic animals have been developed from the inferior 
wild ones of the forest and plain. Without such selection 
and without the best conditions, man, through his own 
superior improvability, has civilized himself, and has 
reached a point where he can see what is yet before him. 
With improved conditions, and with the selection that will 
come through better knowledge and greater freedom, he 
will not be slow to prove himself something quite supe- 
rior to the poor, miserable, depraved creature, " begotten 
in sin and shaped in iniquity," that the priests and phil- 
osophers of all ages have mistakenly believed him to be. 



486 HUMAN PERFECTIBILITY 

What he needs most is the wisdom that can secure a good 
social environment ; and when this shall have been ob- 
tained his future will be very different from his past. 



THE END. 




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